The Magpie
by tainted-angel21
Summary: Fury called her SHIELD's retrieval specialist, some called her a thief, others called her Agent Meyer, her friends called her Ella but the Avengers called her Magpie. She was Estella Meyer, the best thief in the world and the bane of Clint Barton's existence.
1. She was a Magpie and He was a Hawk

Hello Readers! This me again with a new story. I have been a huge fan of the movie Thor when it came out and had been awaiting impatiently for the Avengers. When I finally saw the Avengers...my god, it was so much better than I had anticipated.

Now Loki used to be my favorite hands down when it came to Thor, but now I have another favorite. Well, my favoritism for both men are battling neck to neck, so I really can't decide between them. I love Loki and Clint Barton A.K.A Hawkeye. Anyway, right after I finished watching the movie, this plot had been brewing in my head and I just had to write it out. So, here it is, my new OC in the Avengers world...I hope you like it and please do review and let me know of your opinions. Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

**The Magpie**

**Chapter One**

Shluup-up-up-up

Fra-rah-rat-tat-tat

Shilp-shlop-shilp

Tap-tap-tap

Shluup-up-up-up

Agent Barton gritted his teeth; it went on and on and on, the infernal sound of her shuffling that deck of cards. He did not need to look at her to know exactly what was going on. Her thin fingers would quickly and swiftly throw the cards here and there. Quickly she would maneuver her fingers through a complex shuffling of her cards; so quick that the naked human eyes would even miss seeing anything. She would do a different kind of shuffling every time and there would always be a tap-tap-tap of her shuffled deck in between each of the methods. Some shuffling methods were done with one hand and some with both of her hands.

She loved showing off, it was in her nature and Clint Barton hated it. But at the same time he knew, what she was doing now was simply out of boredom and quite possibly to drive him insane. With her one never knew her true intentions. Then again with her kind who knew anything? Regardless, she had been shuffling and reshuffling her deck of cards for over an hour. How he knew she was doing it as a nasty habit and out of boredom? Well the answer was simple, Clint had been studying her for a long, long time, and as much as he knew about her and her habits, which was a lot, he still was nowhere near figuring her out. Clint cracked his knuckles, as the cards in her hand were starting another complex shuffle. He would not look and he sure as hell would not stare at the cards going through another impressive and kind of fascinating to watch shuffle.

The sounds were grating on his nerves and he kind of wanted very desperately to set the deck on fire. He couldn't even call her on it yet, she was after all not showing off. If she wanted to show off she would be performing one of her many magic tricks. Well, she called them her magic tricks; truthfully they were nothing but a trick of her fast hands. That was the reason why she was that great at shuffling cards. She was a good enough 'magician', Clint supposed. Then again, her kind of people always were great with such tricks. She was all about illusions, tricks and lies.

There was not a single thing about her that Clint could stomach. Her very presence irritated him. Natasha always found it hilarious for some reason. Then again, she did too.

Agent Romanov or better known as Natasha actually liked her very much, which was saying something since Natasha did not like anyone. Clint had his own history with Natasha and she had been his partner in many missions. Clint and Natasha had a bond, best friends even. But what baffled him and infuriated him to no ends was the fact that she had a history with Natasha as well. One that Natasha kept a closed lid on. Natasha from the first moment that she had arrived showed great affection towards her, and she seemed to have a relationship with the cold and manipulative red-headed spy that could only be best described as best friends, which of course told Clint that what he had with Natasha was nowhere near close enough. Natasha had a very strong bond of loyalty, affection and friendship with her. Natasha actually visibly worried for her sometimes, which looked downright freaky sometimes on the cool and forever composed spy, Clint shuddered.

Natasha and she would share jokes, laugh, taunt others, spar together and even spend a lot of time together after work. Natasha had special smiles and affectionate names for her even. Clint glared every time he saw Natasha chuckle and be all smiley whenever she would do those stupid 'magic' tricks for her. How she oh-so-magically grabbed a flower out of thin air for Natasha or how she would create Natasha's favorite little chocolates from coins. She always did stupid tricks like that.

Clint had pried many times, and tried his best to coax out the details of Natasha's relationship with her, but he failed spectacularly. Every time Natasha would shut up tight and divert the topic, but there would always be a smug and laughing look in her green eyes. Natasha wouldn't spill a single detail, then again what did he expect from an interrogation specialist? Natasha was the best in that field.

All Clint knew about her was from her files and even those were restricted. He had tried Agent Coulson once, but even Coulson did not know all the details about her. She liked Coulson though, everyone knew that. Coulson and she had this weird as hell obsession with all things nerdy. Of course, no one could openly mock them about it. No one was stupid enough to challenge two of Fury's favorite agents. Sometimes Coulson and she would talk about some nerdy computer game, or some comic book, even trading cards. They were that nerdy. Clint sneered internally, she did not look like a nerd, but she was a big nerd. Coulson especially loved her card tricks. Nerd.

Everyone knew she was one of the Nick Fury's favorites. Which was stupid because she was nothing special to be his favorite. Clint knew the only reason she got away with all the shit that she pulled and all the agents she ticked off was simply because she had Fury's favor. How she managed that Clint hadn't the faintest idea about. Fury had simply brought her along one day and explained what she had to do. No training or any kind of briefing whatsoever. She was given one mission after another and with her impish smile she did it all. She annoyed everyone and was especially cheeky with Fury. While everyone, Clint included would be tensed in the presence of the Director, she would get away with the most outrageous comments and actions.

Clint had watched her for so long and as closely as he could, waiting for her to fail or make a mistake. Something to turn disastrous, but she somehow always made even the worst of situations to turn around for her. She always perked up at even the slightest implication of a new mission and from what Fury said; she was the fastest at completing her missions. Then again her missions were of those kinds and were essentially nothing special, anyone could do them. Fury himself had recruited her and all her past and files were information only Fury knew. Fury always had a smirk for her and a sassy answer in return for each of her cheeky comments. She and Fury had some strange bond. She was one of his soldiers who followed orders, but at the same time, she was treated just a bit differently than others. Clint scowled, apparently sass and bantering with her encouraged her to continue her good work. Also, it inspired her innovative streak. That was just a nice way of saying she could lie, deceive and fool people better, Clint snorted.

Shlip-shlip-shlip-shlip

Feeeeessssshhhhh…

Tap-tap-tap

Why wouldn't she just stop doing that? Clint grunted. If he could just tie her up to a chair and proceed to rip apart each of her precious playing cards one by freaking one into tiny pieces right before her eyes, now that would be justice.

Then there was Agent Maria Hill. She was the only one who understood him when it came to her. Hill disliked dealing with her very much. Hill tolerated very little when it came to her, but of course complaining or writing a negative report on her never worked. Her success rates with her missions made up for all her flaws and eccentricities, as Fury always said and Agent Hill always followed Fury's words to the dot. Hill was always cold to her and kept her professionalism. But she tried her best to annoy the more serious agent. Agent Hill treated her like a disobedient child, which Clint agreed with that she was.

She did the oddest things for Hill though and Clint always noticed. From every place her mission would take her, she would bring the strangest little souvenirs for Hill and leave them in her office. She brought her a tiny figurine of an elephant ballerina in a pink tutu from France once. Agent Coulson barely held in his chuckle at the look Hill got on her face after she saw that, Clint himself had laughed a little. No credit to her of course, Hill just looked funny with that look on her face. Coulson once said that she liked being scolded by Agent Hill and brought those silly figurines for her to see her expression. She thought of Hill as a disapproving aunt. She was clearly delusional, thought Clint.

Clint kept his eyes on everything else around him except the annoying woman still shuffling her deck of cards. He did not like her at all. She was one of those very few people who could always evade his line of sight. If she wanted it so, Clint or anyone of SHIELD would never be able to find her. Stealth was one of best traits. Then again, any good thief was good at being stealthy and she prided on herself to be the best thief there was.

Fury hired her to be the agent who would do certain kinds of missions. But before all of that she was a thief, the best thief out there. She was famous for her jobs. There was not one security system which could keep her out and keep her from getting what she wanted. She had the most impressive sets of skills and the most outrageous and unbelievable plans to steal what she wanted to steal. She did it all for the thrill and the challenge of it. There was not one law agency out there that could apprehend her or even know who she was. Hell, they thought it was a 'him' and actually a group of thieves working together and not one person. SHIELD did not even have a good pin point on this infamous thief.

That was until she contacted certain law agencies and submitted many concrete evidences anonymously against a terrorist cell group. She even had lots of detailed plans to launch stealth attacks on the terrorist group's head-quarters. She basically handed SHIELD the leader and his head henchmen gift wrapped. Of course after the leader was apprehended, SHIELD learned that a very expensive painting that the leader especially liked and all of his other art collection was stolen. That was the smallest and most important lead anyone had ever gotten when it came to this thief. That was also when Nick Fury himself started taking great interest in this thief and started tracking her himself.

Clint wasn't even in on recruiting her, but from what he heard from Coulson and Hill, it took a very long time for Fury to even find her. Hell, she led him on a very great big merry chase for a year, leaving him all kinds of clues. Finally, when he did find her, it was her who apparently had set herself a date up with Fury. She wanted to talk and listen what he wanted.

Fury appeared with all his back up and on the intent to arrest her and later offer her a way out of prison if she worked for SHIELD. Apparently, she had a way out of the very public restaurant and told him if he asked her nicely she would very happily join in. Threats of prison did not intimidate her in the least. That evening Fury and she had a nice dinner and a very long conversation. Something that was horrifyingly enough something like a date, only not romantic but bizarrely filled with conversations about past missions of Fury's and her jobs and both of their strange skill sets, also of the perks SHIELD offered. Coulson who was there that evening on watch said that in the end she wanted to readily join SHIELD, because she wanted all the challenging missions SHIELD could throw her way and because she wanted to do something good for a change.

It was Natasha who had approached her before Fury did in secret and convinced her to join and it was Natasha who handled her initial training. She had broken everyone's expectations when it came to her training. She was already trained, but of course Natasha knew that, just not how well she was trained. A few weeks later, she became one of SHIELD's strongest agents. If Clint was the master assassin and Natasha the master spy, then she was the best damned retrieval specialist SHILED had. Clint gritted his teeth, just a fancy name for what she did. Steal, that is. She was nothing but an overly glorified thief, a cat burglar.

Clint hated working with her and more than anything else hated working for her. For many missions, if she needed back up, Clint would be sent to her, sometimes Natasha too. But mostly it was Clint who was sent to follow through her plans and he hated it. It was just that his skills worked brilliantly with her's, Clint was man enough to admit that, but that did not mean he liked it in the slightest of bits. She was far too arrogant and unpredictable. He could trust her to have his back and she would gladly be there for him, but that was just a part of their team skills. He just could not stand her and from how she infuriated him at all ends, the sentiment was returned. She took it as her personal mission to tick him off every chance she got and she wasn't even the least bit scared of the master assassin. That both bruised Clint's ego and made him feel a little bit better about himself.

Clint grumbled, she and he had nothing in common except one thing, their love for high places. Standing on the very edge of the highest of sky-scrappers did not bother her in the least bit. She walked on the thinnest of cables with utter confidence, jumped off buildings with a happy smile, breezed through security systems, was invisible to security cameras and people like Clint whose job it was to see everything, there was no building she couldn't get in and out of, there was simply nothing to hold her and no obstacle in her way when she wanted to retrieve something. Those were the very reasons Fury wanted her on his payroll.

She never left an opportunity to rub the fact in Clint's face that he might be the man who never missed a shot, but she was the one target he could never hit. After all, he could never get her in his hit zone; she was always invisible to his sight. Every time she said that, he swore he would hit her, with one of his tranquilizer shots that is, but he knew she was very capable of dodging his shots.

She was disturbingly civilian sometimes and had not a shred of professionalism when it came to the job. She wasn't a soldier at all. She just was extremely good at what she did and that was that. Her background was very vague to almost everyone. Not even Hill had any information on her. Coulson knew many of her interests and they were friends, but not even he knew everything about her. Fury knew many things about her, but it was Natasha who knew her truly. There was a time when Clint had heard her call Natasha her best friend and a part of the family. He had watched in awe as Natasha did not scowl or roll her eyes or even have her blank face on, she had smiled softly and blushed. Natasha who guarded herself fiercely and did not let anyone in, she let her in so easily. That was a thing of miracles, Clint noted.

Clint never openly voiced his disliking for her, why should he? It wasn't needed and she did her job right. Even though she made him want to strangle her with her annoying personality. He might not voice it openly or complain about her, but her disliking was pretty clear. He looked at her now, he really did not see what Natasha, Coulson and Fury saw in her.

She sat there lazily, shuffling the cards in her hands still and tapping them obnoxiously on the table before her. He knew she was waiting on Coulson. They were going to clock off together, that he had heard from Coulson. They were going to some comic book convention or something. Again, nerds.

She was out of her usual suit given to her by SHIELD; she was in her civilian clothes. With her, he could never tell which kind of clothes she actually wore when she was on her own time. He had seen her in many kinds of clothes and all needed for her job. This time she was dressed in a pair of black jeans which was obscenely tight, a little too tight bright red short-sleeve t-shirt on with a bright yellow lightning-bolt on it which Clint vaguely related to some comic book super-hero and a pair of too clean and neat sneakers. She looked like the girl-next-door. Who could even possibly think she was one of the world's best thieves? The best damned cat burglar you could come across? She looked like a nice young college student. Only that she was not.

He watched her, he always watched her and she knew that very well. Clint knew that she knew that he did not trust her at all. She was a thief, who ever trusted a thief? Even though she had proved her worth to SHIELD numerous times over the years. She stared right back at him, her usual impish smile on her lips. Clint's eyes raked over her, her too pale skin, most of her missions were conducted in the dark of the night after all and she saw very little of the day, her figure, well she was tall and very flexible and fast, she was just an inch or two shorter than him. Whenever she was in her uniform, there was not one male agent who did not give her a second look. Clint grunted, so she had a killer rack and he loved to watch her leave a room, both because her annoying presence would leave him be and he got to take a very good look at her perfect behind, he was a hot-blooded man as any other and he noticed that, big freaking deal.

She always painted her nails with the most obnoxious of colors, this time it was bright red with little yellow lightning bolts. The day before Clint remembered it was light green and purple stripes. Her mouth, well she was a smart-ass, everyone knew that and it was one of her attractive features as well. Bright smile and full pink lips, although she spent most of her time insulting and driving everyone crazy with that same mouth and mostly her bright smiles were reserved and the impish smiles and grating smirks were freely distributed amongst everyone around her. Her voice was very musical, soft and alluring, and because of her personality it made her presence all the more annoying. Her eyes, they were a mix between brown, gold and green. Her eyes were big and hazel, also very observant those eyes were. There was not a single detail that go amiss by those hazel eyes. Another thing everyone said that was common between him and her and he hated it when someone pointed that out.

It was very hard to keep an eye on her from a vantage point, Clint knew that from experience. But if he had to look for her, he always looked for this one thing that made it easy for him to spot her. Her hair, it wasn't the usual brunette like Maria's, or Natasha's bright red curls or even the sunny blondes that came out of a bottle these days. Her hair was long, very long and always in a tight and fairly complicated looking hair-do, always kept up and out of the way. Her hair was something which held a morbid fascination for Clint. He could never decide which color it was, pitch black or dark maroon. It was so dark, it looked black, but when the light hit her hair in a certain way, there was a lot of red in it. This time she sat there with her stupid black-red shiny thick hair in a thick pony-tail; the end of said tail swishing wildly behind her. Clint found the bouncy strands of spirally dark curls very distracting. This was not her usual official hair-do, she was in civilian mode, there were short loose dark hair framing her face. She hadn't pinned them back like she usually did. Clint grunted, she looked so much younger, and so much more annoying, especially with that impish smile on her glossy dark pink lips. So she even had put on make-up this time. Her eyes did look more pronounced, he noted.

Her soft voice asked confidently, "Have something to say to me, Agent Barton?"

He blinked and returned lazily, his expression he knew showed at least a slight sneer, "Not a thing, Agent Meyer."

She chuckled lowly, "I do wonder what I have done to warrant the oh-so-observant watch of the Hawk to be placed on me! I am flattered, really."

Clint stared right back at her coolly; he would not take the bait. She was mocking him and as much as he hated it, it was childish of her and it would be even more childish of him if he retorted back. She stared at him with amused eyes, and somehow it became a competition of who would blink first. She might avoid his eyes whenever she wanted to, but she did not have his eye-sight, sneered Clint in his mind. He had so much more experience of keeping his sight fixed on the target than she did.

Suddenly, there was a loud meow that rang throughout the room. Clint wasn't surprised, but she was and she blinked and forgot all about him. Clint observed her and she might take off her eyes off him, but he never stopped watching her. That was her ringtone for messages and he knew that. She had quickly thrown her cards in her bag and checked her phone. He was still watching her, even thought she had lost her interest in him. He caught her soft and nearly inaudible murmur of, Phil and waiting.

She stood up smoothly and gracefully, took her bag and slung it over her shoulder and did a quick flick of her head to move her hair out of her eyes and then stalked out. She didn't even spare him a second glance, but he did not stop watching. He watched her long legs in those tight black jeans, the way her hips moved, and that logo of that ugly yellow lightning bolt stretching across her chest. He then watched her pass him and then stared at her jeans covering that ass tightly. Even though he disliked her immensely, he had to admit, her ass was a full ten on ten.

The way she disregarded him infuriated him all the more. But just as she reached the door, she called out, "See you later, Francis."

He gritted his teeth as she left. He still did not move his eyes from the doorway. She loved taunting him with his middle name and he wasn't sure who told her, Natasha or Coulson. Then again she was a great hacker she might as well have hacked into his files.

Nothing was off-limits for the girl. She was far too impudent for such restrictions. Too arrogant in her actions, took too much liberty, spoke too freely, and far too secretive with her own life. Someone just had to keep an eye on her at all times, She would bring a lot of trouble one day and SHIELD needed to be prepared for that. Fury might not keep an eye on her and trust her explicitly, but Clint found that he just had to keep an eye on her. So even when she forgot all about him and spared him not even the slightest of glances, he kept his sight firmly on her, focusing on her, Estella Meyer, Agent Meyer, Code name: Magpie. Clint snorted the bird who stole shiny things, perfect name for a thief, but not nearly as vicious as she was in real life. So the Hawk kept his sight locked on the Magpie, waiting for a disaster.


	2. Naughty Thoughts and Passionate Taunts

Hello Readers! I am so very happy and thankful to see that so many people are liking this story. I truly was very nervous about this idea and lacked the confidence to write it.

I have never written about superheroes before and Marvel has made them so legendary and untouchable over the many years that it gets a little intimidating to write them down on paper. Well, they already cause chaos in my mind so I have to get them out somehow.

I hope you like it and please do Review and tell me your thoughts on it. It would help a lot with the story. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

**The Magpie**

**Chapter Two**

Not everyone had the perfect partner when it came to field work and Clint considered himself one of the very few lucky ones who had somehow managed to get himself a partner whom he actually liked working with. God knew what a rocky start he had with Natasha. But now years later and numerous missions later, he had both a good work relation and a good friendship with Natasha Romanov. He considered himself a lucky man.

His skills always stayed sharp, being the partner of Natasha. While they both had different skill sets and trained in different areas, if off-mission they still sparred together a few times a week. Their sparring sessions were very grueling since none went easy on the other and knew eachother's weaknesses and strengths very well, which was very challenging and satisfying. They improved together.

He was sweating bullets, panting and was defending himself against Natasha's efficient and sharp kicks. That woman could knock you out clean with one of her kicks. His forearms were accepting the hard blows of Natasha's kicks and shielding his torso and head while his legs were going through quick steps and complicated footings to dodge kicks to his knees, calves and ankles. There was also the fast leg sweep Natasha did, he always had to jump for those and land perfectly. All of it was quick and very adrenaline pumping.

Just when he had blocked a high kick to the side of his head with a fore-arm, a musical voice called out and took away all his sense of rhythm, count of Natasha's hits and his concentration, "Hey N, care to join me on a shopping excursion for a gown in a few hours? I have to pose as an investment banker's gold-digging wife and distract an oil tycoon. I need something blatantly sexy and elegant."

It really was all her fault. Her and her distrustful presence in the room that made him look for merely a second and that was it. A loud thud to his side, a dull pain spreading throughout his torso and he skidded a little to the side and landed on his ass. The pain wasn't the problem and it certainly wasn't the fact that his ego was bruised because a woman had landed him on his ass. When a woman was as tough as Natasha, being beaten black and blue by her was not something that bruised his ego. Natasha was just not any woman; she was a master assassin after all, one of the very bests at that.

While he was in the process of getting up with his dignity intact, he heard Natasha answer back nonchalantly, "Sure, Ella. I am due for a shopping excursion as it is. Would we be looking at accessories and shoes as well?"

The thief stood there in her SHIELD body-suit looking just as nonchalant and as usual not even sparing a glance at him. She gave Natasha a bright smile which for some reason made him stare at her face, not watch her but flat out stare. She had a beautiful smile, no doubt about that, but she did not smile at people except a select few. Natasha was one of those select few and as close as he was to Natasha, Natasha never gave him anything about how she knew Estella Meyer. Just the simple line, "Oh, we go way back," or "We have been friends for the longest of times."

Their secretive friendship always grated on Clint's nerves but then again he knew for a fact that Natasha did not share anything about him with Meyer. Meyer did not seem to be interested in her friend's partner either, but still Natasha successfully kept them apart and maintained her loyalty to them both. Natasha also maintained her blank mask when it came to being in SHIELD but when talking to Meyer, her green eyes smiled at the thief brightly and affectionately.

How Natasha became her friend was something that baffled Clint. Natasha was a spy and in some regards very snobby and closed off, how the hell had a young cat burglar become such good friends with an older spy mistress?

He stood up and started undoing the wraps around his hands. Meyers crossed her arms underneath her breasts as she lazily stood there. Clint gulped, the suit was already very tight there; did she have to cross her arms like that? How was it his fault if he couldn't stop staring at that when she was making it impossible to not stare? He was suddenly feeling a little too thirsty. He heard her chirp back to her friend, "Hell yeah. While we're shopping maybe we could make plans for dinner and you can crash over at my place."

Then she gave Natasha the most impish smile, Meyer's trademark smile actually. Natasha in return paused for a moment and gave her a strange look and then looked away and drawled slowly, "Sure. We could do that and I could crash at your place."

Clint was still watching them; well to be honest he was just watching her, very closely. Meyer had her hair twisted up into a complicated looking bun, she always looking disturbingly fresh. Clint very rarely saw her to be tired and that was one of the numerous things about her that annoyed him incessantly.

The most disturbing thing ever happened, Meyer gave Natasha a smile that was all teeth and looked a little like how a smile would look like on a shark. Then she repeated in a very high pitched tone, "Crash at my place and when I say crash I mean really crash. Tell me my Russian beauty; will you be able to handle all the workout I will put you through?"

That was beyond disturbing and extremely dirty, and Clint blanched at the onslaught of inappropriate images that drowned his poor male brain at her statements. He could feel his ears blush just a little as he blinked hard and took in a very big swig of water. He thought of all things disgusting to repel his mind off images of Meyer and Natasha doing all sorts of sinful activities. In the end, it was an image of Director Fury wearing a pink dress that made him shudder and disgust and lose his previous train of thoughts.

Natasha snorted dismissively, but humored her, "El, I think I can handle it."

Clint stared in awe as Meyer suddenly hopped like a little school girl all the way up to Natasha and then sing-songed, "What about the workout after our shopping excursion and when you get to my humble abode?"

Clint started choking on his own spit. Okay, there was no way he was misinterpreting. That was a line and Meyer was hitting on Natasha. What the hell? He knew for sure Natasha was straight and from what he had guessed, so was Meyer. Then what the hell was that? Or was this some kind of inside joke of theirs? Did she just wink at Natasha? Who the hell winks like that and one wink was enough, why three disturbing looking winks? Why the hell was Natasha looking all stunned for a second and then smiling softly?

Natasha took a towel and wiped off the sweat she build up as she rolled her eyes and replied dryly, "I think I can manage enough stamina to survive a few hours of movies and junk food after our shopping excursion and when we reach your humble abode."

Meyer walked up to her slowly and handed her a water bottle. Natasha took it and watched her friend shrug nonchalantly and say with a straight face, "Yes, I suppose you could survive a few movies and ice-cream fairly easily. It's not like I have a very handsome and a stud of a man at my home waiting to ravish you throughout the night till dawn. Then not only would your body be going through god-knows how many kinds of flexibility and durability tests with all those positions and places and of course the scratches, bites, bruises and the screaming and moaning. If all of that happened, then I would need to think about your survival, but knowing that none of it will happen and all of this is in fact hypothetical, we needn't worry, right my darling N?"

Clint was far too busy filtering through all the images Meyers had put into his head with her filthy mouth and crude words. All he could see was her with her pale body and smooth and feverish skin, her twisted in all kinds of positions, her silky red-black hair in his fist as he sucked and left little marks on her pale white neck, her dragging her electric-blue colored nails down his back as she arched her body into him for more, her long pale legs wrapped around his waist, her bent over a desk with that perfect ass of hers pushing back against him, her biting down on his neck when she couldn't control her screams, her mesmerizing hazel eyes dilated, her pretty red lips open moaning, her musical voice hoarse from screaming out "Clint…Clint..Clint…Hey Barton!"

It was Natasha who was calling him and finally snapped him out of his delirious thoughts. He thanked god that he had his towel covering his lap and most importantly the part which was suddenly very prominent to the eyes. He barely managed to grunt out a low, "Yeah?"

Natasha gave him a searching look and asked him a little cautiously, "You alright, Clint? You look a little out of it."

Clint swallowed the lump in his throat and replied gruffly, "I'm fine. I was thinking about something."

Natasha looked at her partner, he did not look alright. In fact he looked a little feverish and looked a little dazed. She was worried maybe she hit him too hard, but then Clint was hit worse than this before and he came out of it perfectly. So she took him for his word and did not worry. She shrugged and then stated, "Alright. I am going to go and freshen up," she looked back at her bored looking friend who was fiddling with her phone and said, "Wait for me here, Ella. I will be back soon."

Ella didn't look away from her phone and chirped back, "Yes, yes! Go and make yourself pretty for me."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and asked sardonically, "Am I not pretty right now?"

Ella looked up and replied with a bright smile, "Good point. So make yourself prettier than usual for me. You know how only you can make my heart stutter with just one look of yours, my darling N."

Natasha snorted and started walking away. It took Clint a little time to get his body and mind under control. It was difficult with Meyer standing there like that in her tight uniform. It was very difficult to look away from her, let alone control a perfectly healthy mind from thinking of possible scenarios that included him and her. Why did she have to be the one with that figure? The kind he always had eyes for and went for, the classic hour glass figure, bountiful curves and a thin waist as opposed to the socially popular thin girls. Physically she always scored a twelve on ten on his scoring system; it was her personality and her actions which scored her a minus five on his scoring system as a person.

He took a slow gulp of his water and then drawled out, careful to look absolutely uninterested, "Don't you have to go and change as well, Meyer?"

She gave a low hmmm as her full lips parted and then looked at him with utter surprise and said with raised brows, "Oh, you are still here. I didn't even notice."

His jaw clenched and he barely held in the urge to glare at her. He gave her a cool not-bothered-at-all look, just because she never noticed him did not mean that he had no effect on her whatsoever or that she deemed him very insignificant. No, it was not like that at all. It just meant she had crappy observation skills and she was very ignorant of her surroundings.

She went back to fiddling with her phone as she answered, "I will change back at my place. N and I will be swinging by there."

After that she ignored him completely and that grated on his nerves. So he did what anyone else would have done in his position, he glowered at her. After a few minutes, he decided. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to say something to her. He got up and walked towards her slowly and he drawled loudly, keeping his body language as relaxed as possible, "So, would this shopping excursion of yours add to your record? Should I report someone to clean up your new shoplifting records? You do know you are paid for every purchase that you make for your mission."

He kept his eyes focused on her, waiting for her reaction, for her pale cheeks to flush in indignation and for her crass mouth to start hurling insults at his head. To his surprise, she snorted and then went on tinkering with her phone for a few more seconds. Finally, she put it in one of the compartments in her belt and then looked up at him. She had that familiar tilt to her pink lips and that devilish gleam in her hazel eyes as she walked slowly towards him.

Walked wouldn't be the right term to use, Clint decided, she was stalking towards him with the grace of a cheetah. She stopped a few feet away from him and stood there in a stance which was lazier than the stance he held himself in. She crossed her arms underneath her impressive bust and just looked at him. His eyes had briefly drifted towards that ten on ten rack, but he quickly looked up to her face to find her giving him a look which made him bristle. She looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Then she started in her musical voice, which held equal parts of arrogance as well as the beginning of a laugh, "Oh Barton, please don't embarrass yourself by trying to even imagine what goes on in my mind or what actions I plan on taking. Something as dreadfully dull and as trivial as shop-lifting can never been one of my grand artistic performances."

Clint just started at her as she pointed at herself with a slim and pale hand with a flourish as she finished her speech. God, she was arrogant and delusional. She thought she was an artist, what the hell was she smoking? He repeated, well sneered, clearly stunned and mocking her, "Artistic performances? From you? A thief?"

Meyer did not look even the least bit offended. She nodded happily, leaned a little towards him and explained enthusiastically, "Of course, its art. Have you ever read any of my mission reports? There is not one place in the world which I could not get into and you know it. What I do is always about the challenge. Silly Birdie, what I do is always about flair and leaving people in awe and befuddled. I do what other people think is impossible. I love it when people decide something is impossible because then I get to break their insipid little misconceptions and delusions."

Clint would never admit it, but he was a little in awe of her. Okay fine, he could admit it to himself only, he was fascinated by her words and how she saw the world. She was passionate and had a lot of fire in her and clearly she took great pride in what she did. So what if her delusions were interesting, she was still someone completely untrustworthy. No matter what the pretty words she used to describe her actions, there simply was no justification to it; she was just another petty thief. Also, he was not a silly birdie. She was a silly birdie. A mad one too.

Clint snorted and stated cynically, "Funny, I always thought you simply stole expensive paintings, ancient artifacts and precious jewels. You are like every other thief, stealing things to sell them off. What I see is a petty thief and shoplifting is exactly the kind of thing one expects from a petty thief."

That should have stung her pride. It would have stung his if someone said anything about his marksmanship. But no, she was as unpredictable as ever. She giggled. She fucking giggled at his insults and looked absolutely tickled. Clint noticed her giggle was fake; she wasn't the type to giggle. She laughed loudly or chuckled quietly, but she never giggled. She stood straight and crossed her arms behind her back, pushing her body a little upwards and practically shoving her breasts towards him. That might be a childish pose most little girls did when they were trying to be adorable to get what they wanted, but it only made things far more uncomfortable for him. Just looking at her sent his blood flowing downstairs. He huffed slightly and glared at her.

She leaned in closer to his face and whispered, her warm minty breath hitting his face and doing worse things to his libido, "Oh how adorably ignorant you are, Barton. I don't do what I do for something as dull as money. That would make me just like everyone else, common and dull. I do what I do because I am bored and I like challenges. I have never ever been in need of money in my entire life. If you don't believe me, read my file and check my background."

So she was a rich brat, but then none of this made sense. She is one of the most expert thieves in the world and had been doing what she did for years and she was in her mid-twenties. So that meant she had been doing this since she was a child, but if she was rich then why would she do that? None of it made sense. But then again, he knew not a single thing about her. Her files were inaccessible to him and he had tried his very best many damned times.

She mock gasped suddenly, snapping him from his train of thought. She put a hand to her cheek and dramatically whispered, still so close to his face, she taunted him, "Oh wait, I forgot. You can't, can you? You don't have the clearance to read my files. You don't have the resources or the ability to get anything about my background. You don't know a single thing about me other than what little scrapes you overhear from the people I associate with. Poor little Archer boy."

Clint's face blanked, she was right. It was true that he was most curious about her and that he was digging up on her to only fail time and time again. Her files were above his clearance level, but that only meant that she had many dark secrets that SHIELD was hiding from everyone's eyes. It meant that what he thought about her was absolutely right, that she was unpredictable, volatile and not to be trusted at all.

She leaned in and tilted her head to the right slightly, making her soft pink lips just inches away from his, perfect position and distance for him to capture those lips underneath his and just kiss her had till she forgot her every thought. She smelt like lavender and vanilla. She always smelt like lavender and vanilla and it distracted the hell out of him. How she could maintain her stealth and still smell so sharply and headily of vanilla and lavender, he could never know. How was she never caught by her scent alone? She taunted, but her voice remained calm and lacked malice, it was as if she was stating something as factual as rain falls from clouds, "It must grate on your raw nerves to not know a single thing about me. When your observant hawk-eyes are totally blind when it comes to someone like me, it must make you feel so very frustrated. What did you call me again? Ah yes, the petty thief, the petty thief who eludes the mighty Hawkeye and escapes his all-knowing sight."

He scowled blackly at her; his self-control was threads away from strangling her pretty neck. She smiled and backed away from him. She sighed and looked at her perfectly painted nails in a bored manner and kept looking at them as she said softly, "It must drive you insane that you can't figure me out or get to know me even. While your own associates know so many things about me and they aren't even famous for having the title of greatest marksman in the world."

She looked back at him and right into his eyes. Her glinting green-hazel eyes locked on his dark eyes, suddenly Clint swore his pulse jumped and then kind of slowed, his ears throbbed for the briefest of seconds and he felt static all over. She told him confidently, "You see, what I do is not for money. What I do is for the challenges. Like making the greatest marksman in the world feel like he is colorblind, seeing double and losing his perfect balance all at the same time. I do what I do is because I love the expression of peoples' faces. The expression that right now I see on your pretty face, my dear Francis. This is why I do what I do and wanna know a very funny thing?"

Okay, so she had him. He wanted to know more, find out every little significant or insignificant thing about her and after all that insult and taunts, yes he wanted more. Even the use of his forbidden to use middle name did not bother him. He tilted his head to the side and watched her hungrily. He didn't answer her but he was sure she read his answer in his eyes, she said earnestly in her sweet soft voice, "I do what I do, but whatever I do always inspires something in people like you."

Inspire him? Seriously, what was she smoking? She was wrong. She infuriated him, not inspired him. She got her verbs wrong. A part of him wanted to open his mouth and just give her a smart-ass reply, but the more dominant part of him wanted to stay quiet and let her finish what she was saying. Because the chances were she wouldn't give him even this much attention the next time he saw her. She never saw him, this was probably the first time she was focusing on him and him alone. He wanted to know what she saw in him and how she saw him.

She explained, her eyes burning with her zeal, while her voice remained soft and melodic, "I make people like you strive to become better. To feel challenged. To try their very best to beat a petty thief like me. The harder you try to best me, the more interesting things become for me. The more you investigate me, the more I smile. The more you dig at me, the more I laugh. The harder you chase me, the more fun I have."

He was staring at her with wide eyes. He was stunned and he kept on staring at her while she matched his stare with a knowing look in her eyes and her impish smile plastered on her lips. She was unbelievably arrogant. He wasn't even ready to retort in any manner whatsoever when there was the loud clicks of Natasha's heels and she appeared.

He blinked and schooled his expressions into a neutral mask when he heard her say cautiously, "Hey, what's going on?"

Clint watched as Meyer kept on smiling impishly at him as she replied cheekily, "Oh nothing, our dear Agent Barton here was suggesting us to have lunch at Blue Jay's, N darling."

He didn't know any place called Blue Jay's. Natasha who had been his partner for a long time knew him very well as she snorted disbelievingly and retorted, "Don't lie to the expert, Ella. Clint doesn't even know of places like Blue Jay's, let alone suggest Blue Jay's."

Meyer blinked and then looked back at her friend and replied with a lazy smile, "Oh then it must have been me who was suggesting and he who was curious about our plans. My bad!"

Natasha knew immediately that her friend must have done something to her partner or vice versa. She wasn't blind or stupid; she was after all a master spy. But one did not need to be a spy to notice the tension that ran in Clint when it came to her friend Ella. Again, Ella was one of those relaxed laid-back people who lived to aggravate everyone around them, so chances were that she did something to annoy the already annoyed archer. She ran a hand through her short red curls and sighed loudly, "Do I want to know?"

Ella blinked once and then answered innocently, "That depends. Do you want to know or would you like to remain ignorant in case of any future interrogations?"

Natasha placed her hands on her hips and gave her a searching look and then said matter-of-factly, "See, now if someone else said that to me I would be worried and taken things seriously. But you are far too dramatic for that."

Ella smiled and replied a little bashfully, "I will take that as a compliment."

Natasha stated dryly and Clint barely held in his snort, "It wasn't one."

Meyer put up a finger and explained seriously, "But I am taking it as one."

Natasha rolled her eyes, turned around and started walking away and said dismissively, "Whatever. Now let's go," she called out without looking back, "See you tomorrow, Clint."

Clint murmured a yeah. But he when he looked back at the thief, she was smirking at him. Then she swiftly turned around and followed the red-head out, but she called out very loudly to annoy him one last time for the day, "See ya when I see ya, Frannie and have a great work out."

He honestly did not notice the Frannie comment at first, he was too busy staring at her ass walking away from his line of vision, but when he did, he growled.

He started stomping away to his archery range to blow off steam and he hoped no silly recruit or junior agent got in his way, because Hawkeye was not in a good mood.

Later on when he was busy puncturing the hell out of his targets with one arrow after another, he decided. Just because he let her have the floor to say her bit and let her show her face openly did not mean he let her win. Oh no, he let her do all of that on purpose. She had no idea how much of herself she had revealed to him and he was going to use all of that and more to find out every little thing about her and break her into tiny, tiny pieces. But before all of that, he was going to make one damned thing sure, from tomorrow onwards Estella Meyer would never ever just forget him or ignore him or just not see him. He would make her see him. After all what was a magpie compared to a hawk?


	3. A Goddess in Gold and A New Mission

Hello Readers! Here is the next chapter. This one shows Agent Meyer's skills, well just a little. Also, everything about this is about our darling favorite archer.

I hope you like it and please do Review. Happy Reading!

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...

The Magpie

Chapter Three

Clint had an assignment for the next few days that led him to Brazil. In short, it was hot, humid and a very easy job. Usually he could have stayed there for a day or two and relaxed, but he had another assignment lined up so he rushed back to the headquarters.

He made his reports and was waiting on Agent Hill for a meeting and perhaps his next assignment file; that was when his ears picked up a loud wolf whistle. He grunted in disgust these new recruits had no sense of decorum; also he was willing to bet it was one of those SHIELD pilots. They really were cocky SOBs. They thought they were god's gifts to women and SHIELD. They must have seen one of the female agents in their uniforms and just had to go out of their ways to make complete asses out of themselves and make the poor woman feel harassed. He hoped darkly that it was Natasha or better yet Hill, they always took care of these idiots swiftly and painfully. He smirked as he remembered Natasha walking by nonchalantly and sucker punching an agent who had made a crass comment about her hair and if the drapes matched the carpets, the guy went down in barely a second and Natasha walked away coolly and as if nothing had happened.

All he could hear then were the whispers, awed exclamations, compliments and hoots about the hottie in the backless dress who caught a big fish for SHIELD. With slight irritation and patience only acquired by his long time experience as a sniper, did he ignore it all and went back to thinking about the many things on his mind, one of them being where his own red-headed partner was and said partner's good friend, the petty thief.

His attention was very much occupied, that is until he heard a very familiar voice that poured cold water all over him and made him jump out of his chair, "Really boys, if nothing else, then for SHIELD's hardcore reputation of having bad-ass agents and stop acting like pubescent boys who have acne all over their oily faces, get their hair cut by their mothers, get stuffed into lockers by the jocks, have imaginary elf girlfriends via online games and have never seen a real pair of tits let alone have had sex. All of this makes Director Fury look bad and we all know how much of a bad-ass he is. Oh and Agent Johnson, do wipe that drool off your chin."

Clint blinked and couldn't help but smile; he could recognize the combination of that musical voice, arrogance, dripping venom and downright creative insults anywhere. But his smile fell away instantly as he realized why Agent Meyer was actually speaking. The hottie in the backless dress and the crude remarks about said hottie, hell the wolf whistle, it was all directed at Meyer.

He gritted his teeth and stalked out to see to those pathetic agents, just because he didn't trust the woman did not mean he would tolerate such disrespect towards her. This was borderline sexual harassment and for fuck's sake, she was his partner's good friend and his co-worker. She was a senior agent and one of Fury's best, she deserved the respect of having those positions.

His arms were tensed and his pace was brisk, he really was ready to tear some unlucky bastard a new one, that is until he saw her. His pace faltered and he kind of stopped right in his track. It was Meyer, alright, but he had never seen her like that before. He had seen Natasha like that before, it was a part of the job after all, undercover and all that or dressing up, but Natasha did not even compare to her.

She stood there, looking like a goddess, a bored goddess but a goddess nonetheless. She was wearing one of those flow-y gowns. He watched with a parched throat and hungry eyes, the pale yellow fabric that made her skin glow and fell down her body in the most sinful way possible, tracing her hips and long legs like a lover's caress. Fuck, there was also a long slit on one side and a shapely leg almost indecently exposed from mid-thigh to foot leaned out and on her dainty foot was in a strappy golden dangerously high and thin heel; that had to be the sexiest leg he had ever seen, Clint told himself.

He slowly and with a hell of lot of dark intent traced his eyes upwards, and he smirked. The top of her dress was held up by thin straps and it showed a perfect view of her pale neck, that perfect collarbone and just the top of her breasts, not exposing much of her fabulous cleavage, but with her rack, she didn't need to show anything. She had a lot, after all and any hot blooded man would not waste a second not imagining or fantasizing about it. She wore a simple necklace, and Clint could bet his entire year's salary that the pendent on her neck was a yellow diamond, the real deal. Her pale arms were bare and Clint suddenly had the strongest urge to nibble from all the way up on her neck and down to the curve of her shoulder. Her dark hair was piled upwards in a fancy hair-do and her lips looked the color of raspberries, he really wanted to taste them and see if they tasted like raspberries as well.

He told himself disappointingly, she might be a petty thief, but there couldn't be a woman sexier than her right then. His opinion was reinforced by ten times as soon as she turned around to talk to Coulson. He literally growled out a little and to his utter embarrassment, he felt all kinds of hot and his pants felt suspiciously tighter than usual. The dress tied behind her neck and there was a very, very thin string around the middle of her back, other than that, all he could see was pale, creamy skin. Lots and lots of skin. The dress, well it did not have a back at all. From her neck till just above the curve of her ass, it was all bare. Fuck, he had to use all his self-restraint to stop from touching her. He stared and he had to admit he loved how back curved out sharply to that perfect ass. He wanted to trace that curve with his hands, hell he just knew that that curve was perfect for him to keep his hand on. Oh fucking hell, he groaned, did she just have to stick out her ass like that? He was hit with a powerful vision of him licking up from that dip in her waist all the way up her back to the back of her neck, tracing her spine. He needed to see, hear and feel her reaction to that.

Suddenly it occurred to him, she wore that at a mission and caught a big fish and still managed to look like a million bucks? What did she do?

He stared at her; she looked like how she always looked after completing a mission arrogant and exhilarated. There was no way in hell he was going to go up to her and ask, what's up?

So he stood there, very discreetly and with great stealth that only assassins of great caliber like him possess, did he overhear most of what happened on Meyer's mission. Meyer was assigned to get this business tycoon who was suspected to have links with a huge crime syndicate. Now the tricky part of the mission was to break the ties between the syndicate and the tycoon and turn the tycoon against the syndicate and start working for the government. At first the job sounded like it was meant for Natasha not Meyer. Then he got the hang of it. Meyer's task was to retrieve the tycoon.

The guy had all sorts of juicy info on the syndicate that he guarded with his life and kept in places unknown. They were supposed to be his line of defense against the syndicate if thing ever went wrong. Meyer first stole all those info, and spread around the word that the tycoon was robbed, of what the syndicate did not know but were suspicious of.

The guy was sweating bullets and knew he would be killed any day now by the syndicate since he firmly believed that someone from syndicate knew that he had sold the syndicate out. The truth was that the syndicate knew nothing of this. After that the paranoid tycoon was constantly looking over his shoulder, an attack on him by a hired mercenary made him believe even more firmly about how the syndicate was after him now. Meyer swooped in like a heroine, saved his ass from the hired mercenary who was hired by a contact of SHIELD's and the attack was very real, after that she brought in the tycoon. He was with certain government officials right now signing away for his new mission in exchange for protection and amnesty. The funny thing was that he was going undercover for no reason at all, his life was very much safe from the syndicate now and he was free to continue on his life as before. From what Coulson was going on and on about, it was Meyer who planned the entire thing, before this it was simply supposed to be a simple task of her stealing just the info, but now she did that and planted a very good double agent within the syndicate.

Clint could not help but smirk smugly at that. It had nothing to do with Meyer herself, but the simple fact that it was one of SHIELD's agents who had scored once again. He really didn't like her at all, but he couldn't help but admit she had a unique way of completing her missions, also this one would only reinforce her status as Fury's favorite, and he grimaced at the thought of that.

He looked at her once more, there wasn't even a single wrinkle on that scrap of fabric she called a dress, let alone a scratch on her. Did she really fight a mercenary and drag back a paranoid tycoon back? If she did, then how did she do it exactly? He made a mental note to get the mission report of this mission some time later.

He continued observing her and that's when he came up to her. Some cocky pilot, Clint just knew he was with his stupid bleach blonde hair and blue eyes, also that strut was something that all the SHIELD pilots seemed to have, stood beside her and leered at her, "Hi. I am Hunt, Caleb Hunt."

Clint gritted his teeth, the smarmy bastard had his eyes glued to her breasts while he introduced himself. His fist was aching to connect with that guy's large chin and knock him out cold. What, did the chain of command stopped working or were mere pilots these days not aware of proper protocols, hell boot-lickers like them were supposed to be scared shitless of the superior agents. He wasn't even supposed to look her in the eyes let alone ogle her breasts and use crappy pickup lines on her. Meyer might be a petty thief but she had the same clearance and authority as Clint himself. That demanded respect from pilots like them. Everyone knew pilots always came way below field agents in the animal kingdom that was SHIELD.

He seethed as he watched them. To his surprise, Meyer did not react as Hill or Natasha would have reacted. Natasha would have glared at the stupid bastard and then dislocated his arm or something. She was mean like that, also the reason why the cocky pilots steered clear of the dangerous spy. Meyer did not even notice him. Well, that made Clint's lips twist into a little wicked smirk; clearly the bastard had no game at all. As if someone like him could even catch the eye of someone like her. She was way out of his league.

The bastard cleared his throat loudly and repeated again, this time a little louder, "I am Hunt, Caleb Hunt."

She did not even look up from the file she had in her hand, instead she turned around and stated coldly, "Lost, Get Lost."

Clint snorted, that was a good answer. To add injury to the insult, she walked right by him, making sure to step on his foot very hardly with her very pointed heel. What happened to the cocky pilot? Well, he was too busy gathering what was left of his ego from the floor as he yelped girlishly and was jumping around the floor. Clint had enjoyed that view, but when the pilot loudly insulted, "Frigid bitch!" Clint stood up to take care of the insolent bastard.

To his shock, before he could even move a muscle, Meyer, not bothered or perturbed, did not even look behind as she called out sharply, "Good and that is what you will tell Agent Jameson when you report to him for your reprimand."

Clint barely held in the hiss that was an automatic reflex when it came to the word reprimand to the name Jameson. Agent Jameson was basically the reincarnated form of Adolf Hitler or at least a long lost descendant who loved torturing recruits and fresh agents by what he called training and grooming, but that wasn't nearly as frightening as to when you were sent to him for reprimands. That was hell and Clint himself was one of the lucky ones who had not been to him for any form of reprimand in his years with SHIELD. Natasha had been subjected to a few reprimands with Agent Jameson in the beginning of her career with SHIELD; also she was later trained by Jameson and was currently one of his favorites. That was just the perfect explanation for Natasha's own sadistic tendencies.

Clint was grinning widely at how quickly the smarmy pilot had paled and everyone around him had suddenly gone quiet and suddenly walked far, far away from him. Especially his little posse of pilots who thought he was their leader.

He was a little too much lost in his thoughts, and what broke him out of it was the sharp clicks of heels on the floor and the even sharper slap of a file on the table before him. He blinked once and breathed in, the heady scent of vanilla and lavender and he looked down on the file and the dainty white hand on the table. Her fingers were painted a bright gold this time. He didn't even touch the file, he looked up at her with a raised eye-brow. God, she really did glow in that dress. She stared at him for a few seconds, her poker face was good, Clint admitted. Finally she leaned down and told him stoically, "Your mine tomorrow, Hawk."

He choked a little at that bold statement and he thanked whatever deities there were for making her not hear that. She had walked away briskly right after those four words, her yellow dress flipping around her long legs and that perfect ass swaying seductively.

Fuck, what was wrong with her and what did she mean he was her's tomorrow? His mind was once more drowning in all sorts of x-rated images starring her. Her straddling his lap, grinding against him, moaning against his shoulder, his hands gripping onto that thin waist of her's pulling her towards him, god he wanted to see her in those sky-high gold heels of her's and just wearing those and nothing else.

What Clint Barton felt next was the perfect alternative of being shoved into an iced lake and it was just as effective. Agent Hill's cold and slightly nasal voice called him out sharply, "Agent Barton."

He blinked into attention and looked at her sharply. Oh yes, the perfect alternative. She frowned at him and then informed him briskly and coldly, "Your new mission starts tomorrow and you will be…Wait, you already know."

He asked her gruffly and absolutely confused, "Know what?"

Agent Hill pointed at the file in front of him and sneered, "I see your Team Leader has already given you your mission file. It is exactly like her to not follow the proper protocol and do things however she wishes. She should have at least logged on and informed me that she has already informed you of your mission."

Before he could even react, Maria Hill turned around and stalked away, clearly a little furious. Wait, Team Leader and mission file. He with utter dread etched across his face looked down at the file before him and with a heavy stomach he opened the file.

Fuck it all. He was going on a retrieval mission, simple enough, to retrieve a fellow captured agent in Italy and he was the look-out guy slash sniper. His team consisted of four other agents. Two field agents whom he knew, a security and tech support guy he actually liked and the retrieval specialist who was the leader of this team. Fuck, fuckity, fuck. He really was Meyer's tomorrow, just not in the way he thought he was. Agent Estella Meyer was his team leader for tomorrow's mission. Someone really hated him up there.

A wicked small whisper in his head informed him gleefully, at least now you can find out exactly how she managed to kill that mercenary, drag that tycoon to SHIELD's negotiators and come out looking like a super-model walking out of the page from a magazine. Another whisper told him to take the opportunity to dig at her for all the secrets he wanted to know about her. But the loudest of whispers was the one which reminded him how much he loved a woman on top and who ordered him around.

He shook his head hard and looked back at the data before him. Someone really hated him up there, either that or Fury had it out for him. How the fuck was he going to survive being ordered around by Meyer of all people?


	4. A Very Important Note to my Readers

Hello Readers,

It is with great sorrow that I am writing this but I have bad news. From what I have been hearing, plans on deleting many stories. Well, stories which are all our favorites and just happen to have sex in them, or swearing, or extreme violence.

But if this is to happen then our stories, our very writing style and plotlines will be affected. I mean I cannot write about Eric Northman without mentioning sex, or Clint Barton, or Mr. Gold, or Rumpelstiltskin, or Godric, or many, many others.

What does it matter why we write what we write? It is our imagination, and our way of expressing it. If cannot allow it then why does the site's motto say, Unleash Your Imagination?

I can't bear to imagine what will happen if so many of my favorite stories are all deleted from the site, I don't even think I could write my own stories with such restrictions.

So please spread the word and let us do something about it.

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There is a scheme brewing up with the FF staff and they're planning to take down any and every story over the M rated section (stories with Yaoi, Yuri, het lemons, song based stories, extreme violence, etc...)

So on June 23rd, there will be an official Black Out. Authors will not be able to log in, read, or review stories. Those who do not have accounts are also affected by FF's decisions too. Please participate and spread the news! If enough authors take part in this event, FF will know that we mean business. Also, if anybody has any information on when this purging on M-rated fics will be, please contact me. I would like to know in advance.

SPREAD THE WORD!

Copy and paste this into your story updates, communities and forums!

Thanks!

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Also, please sign this petition. I have personally seen the bullying of one of my favorite writers by this 'Critic'. She had to open a new account.

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Copied from the petition of David Anderson:

For as long as has existed, aspiring authors have used it to expand their creativity and imagination. Stories such as songfics are one of many ways for us to show our love of music and writing and share it with the world. However, groups like Critics United have taken it upon themselves to go and harass authors, teasing and bullying the author until he/she has to take down the story. The have no right to do this to authors, and we have to take a stand. and if songfics are not allowed by the site, then why is there catagories like Glee or Phantom of the Opera or Cats on the site for fanfictions? Please help our voice be heard and lets take a stand!

petitions/the-authors-of-fanfiction-net-stop-critics-united-from-cyber-bullying-our-fellow-authors-2

Please remove the spaces and join the petition, we need to put a stop to this.

Zahra...


	5. Raunchy Novels, Poker Games and A Carnie

Hello Readers! I am so very sorry for the late update. Life got busy and I got a bit of a writer's block and had to battle it all out. I am so very happy, honored and flattered to receive all these reviews, this story being put on alert and being favorited despite the fact that I did not update. I am very happy that you all seem to like Magpie and Clint. I thank you all for the kind reviews. So this chapter is a bit long and I hope you like it. Please Review and Enjoy! Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Four**

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Ten hours later, Clint was in the air with his new team and team leader. What joy! Note the dripping sarcasm, please.

The two field agents, Hobbs and Lane were good agents, not as experienced as him, but still good. The technical support guy was very young and, well he was a smart-ass but something of a genius when it came to all things technological, Jackson. To be honest Clint thought that they did not need a hacker on board for missions, not when they had Magpie on the team. She was one of the bests with those kinds of things, apparently modern day thieves needed to learn modern ways on how to steal and that meant hacking into the most upgraded of computer systems.

He liked Jackson far more than Meyer as a tech agent. He had worked on numerous missions with Meyer on the team, although Meyer had not been the team leader for any of those missions, and Meyer had been the hacker for many of those missions. She was basically very efficient and frankly very good at what she did with the computers, Clint never understood what exactly she did, but at the end of the day, all Clint knew was that Meyer was a pain in the ass to work with. What he did not understand was how no one else except him thought that!

Meyer was extremely cocky. So far Clint never got to be her leader and he thanked the gods and whoever set up the mission roosters for that. He had seen many and numerous team leaders working with her, they liked her because she was good and they could somehow always manage to work with her horrible attitude and her cockiness, but if it was him, he would have tied her up and put her in some dark and isolated corner instead of utilizing her skill sets. Meyer was really intolerable; which of course brought him to this utterly confusing situation as to how she got to be a team leader.

If there is one thing other than his marksmanship Clint was really good at then that was watching people. So there he sat bored out of his mind in air watching his new team. From what he had seen and observed so far, Hobbs and Lane were very good friends and almost always paired to work together. They were recruited together for SHIELD; that much Clint knew from before this mission.

Lane was very much intimidated by Clint, so he sat as far away as possible from him. Why would the man be intimidated by him, well Clint had to take over Lane's hand-to-hand combat training for a day and Clint might have been very upset that day about something Agent Hill said and Meyer might have made an off-hand comment about him. Hobbs was sitting beside his partner to show support, even though he wanted to sit beside Meyer.

Clint barely held in his snorts as he watched Hobbs frequent obvious glances at the new team leader. Although his glances were not for the normal reason a man would look at someone like Meyer for. For someone who read people as a part of his job, Clint could tell from Hobbs' body language that he batted for the other team. So why was Hobbs glancing at a beautiful woman such as Meyer? The answer was simple, Hobbs saw Coulson as his role model and because Meyer was such a good friend of Coulson's, by that extension she was kind of his role model as well. But the basic thing was that Hobbs was a nerd just like Coulson and Meyer. He too was into trading cards, comic books and magic tricks. Clint knew that Hobbs had what looked like a deck of cards in his pocket and was very eager to show them to Meyer.

Then, there was the smart-ass Jackson, that brat was head over heels in puppy love with Meyer. So much that he had been staring non-stop at Meyer since the moment she took a seat. He stared with a permanent dopey-grin on his face and a happy sigh ever now and then. Clint watched in disgust as Jackson kept on staring at Meyer as if she was the best thing God created since sliced bread. Seriously, this entire team was a huge joke.

What was Meyer doing? Well, she was sitting there, very much engrossed in her book, not even bothered by the fact that they were going to go on a mission with a five-people team to attack a building full of armed hostiles to free a fellow agent.

It was after a few more minutes did Clint actually noticed what Meyer was reading and his jaw dropped in utter bewilderment. She was reading one of those awful smutty historical romance books and how did he know that? Well, he was curious about what kept her attention away from her mission, so he read that bit on the back of the book which had a small summary of sorts. He was torn between loudly calling her out on her irresponsible actions and gagging loudly.

She was that lost in the book, emotions flitting back and forth her pretty face so very quickly, one second she was biting on her plump lower lip hard, the next second she was sneering, the one after that smiling wide, and then there was that wicked smile, not the usual impish one, this one was more seductive than mischievous. How could garbage like that entertain her and capture her attention so completely?

After a few more moments of deliberation he asked monotonously, "Interesting read, Meyer?"

She nodded and replied in her musical voice, without so much as looking away from her book, "Yes, very much so, Barton."

Clint leaned back and asked dryly, "Really? Do tell."

That should have put her on the spot, but somehow it didn't even faze her. She nodded and replied, not even the least bit bothered and her mannerism as if she were stating the colors of the rainbow in correct order, "Well, there is arrogant and very sexy Captain of a ship, well a pirate to be exact and the runaway stubborn daughter of a Lord. Right now he has her pinned against a wall and is busy pushing her skirts up her waist and ravishing her to his heart's content and making her scream out his name so loud that the other man who also likes the girl can hear. Would you like me to read to you aloud, Barton?"

Once more, Clint's mouth dropped open and a very curious image entered his mind, Him, her, a wall, skirts pushed up her perfect legs, and her screaming out his name. He shook his head to dispel that line of thought, in fact he noticed Jackson doing that as well. It was Hobbs who jumped in, "No, thank you Agent Meyer. That wouldn't be needed. I am sure that is a marvelous read."

Jackson, the pathetic excuse of an agent actually squeaked, then turned very, very red and almost violently tugged the bag beside him right on his lap. Then proceeded to close his eyes tight and do something that looked vaguely like a breathing exercise. Clint couldn't help but sneer at that pathetic sight.

Clint still kept at it; it was common sense to do so really. It was the matter of life and death and not only for himself, but for that compromised agent and the entire team as well. Clint challenged, "Shouldn't you be giving us a walk through the plan, even if you have one at this point, Agent Meyer, instead of reading for pleasure?"

Everyone had suddenly tensed up; Jackson was frowning at him in a confused manner, while Hobbs and Lane went stiff in defense as if preparing themselves to step in between a fight in the middle of the aircraft. In a way, they were kind of right to expect so, because there really was some hostility in Clint's challenge and he was challenging a team leader. But there was also that fact that Magpie always took care of herself and every time anyone gave her any kind of shit there was always payback from her side, just not immediately. She just wasn't the kind of girl to get into someone's face and scratch their eyes out for an insult, or beat the shit out of them like Natasha would do, or even bury them in all kinds of bureaucratic hell like Agent Hill would do. No, Magpie had her own ways of creative paybacks. Clint was very much sure that she wouldn't do anything drastic there for his offense of questioning her authority.

Meyer's eyes flicked at him in a bored manner and then her attention was back at her trashy book. She turned a page slowly and replied nonchalantly, "Well, Agent Barton, if I don't have a plan then clearly there is nothing to discuss and if I do have a plan then again clearly it is upon my decision as to when I will disclose the details to my team. As it is, I choose not to discuss mission details and give each of my team members their tasks on my mode of transportation, in this case this aircraft."

Then she looked up and gave Clint a smile that was as sweet as the sweetest of poisons, Clint couldn't help but stare a little dazedly at her smile. Not his fault, she did have a brilliant smile. Then she added tauntingly, "You know, it comes with the perks of being a team leader, Barton."

Then she winked. Clint had the sudden urge to throw her damned trashy romance novel out the aircraft.

Hours later, they had reached their destination. They were very discreetly dropped off and by dropped off it means they were literally dropped off via parachutes. Upon landing on the ground did Magpie give her team the first instruction and insight to her plan. She gave her men their costumes, Barton, Lane and Jackson were to play the role of brothers who were taking a vacation. Barton had hair that was something between brown and dark blonde, Lane was a dirty blonde and Jackson was a blonde as well, they easily looked their characters, Barton being the eldest and Jackson the youngest brother.

Hobbs and Meyer were going to play the role of a couple on a romantic getaway. All of them were going to make their way up to this old rest house and get themselves rooms. The rest house of course was a cover for a base for SHIELD, which would be used at that point for their mission. The covers were merely to be used in case someone was keeping a sharp eye around.

After a quick change of clothes, they got into their roles and made their way over to the designated safe house separately. First the three Thompson brothers left in a cab; that is Barton, Lane and Jackson putting on a good show of sibling arguments and ribbing on the way there. Then Meyer and Hobbs got into another cab exactly after fifteen minutes, playing the role of a couple all lovey-dovey and very much in love.

Clint was waiting in the reception area, pretending to look through a few brochures and listening with half an ear to the rather attractive receptionist. The strawberry blonde was all smiles, perky in all the right areas and very, very happy to help them with anything. Clint knew very well to never participate or enjoy these kinds of ladies that usually almost always came along in missions. The focus should always be on the mission and one-night-stands during missions always had a way of coming back and biting an agent on his ass, everyone in SHIELD knew that.

That did not mean he couldn't just stand there and enjoy just how much a young pretty thing like her could profess her attraction of him by a little flirtation and heavy sexual insinuation and innuendos. Also, he was playing according to his cover, really he was doing his job right. A man as attractive as him (he was being modest) was in an exotic country for a little trip with his two not-so-younger brothers, of course this was a trip about letting loose and getting into a little semi-debauchery.

His ears were pealed to the door, waiting for it to open again and signify the arrival of team two, that is Meyer and Hobbs while he eyed the skin the Jessica (the-blonde-perky-always-happy-to-help-receptionist) was displaying by unbuttoning three of the buttons of her shirt in his honor. This kind of attention would almost always make any man smug and that was known very well by the smirk that spread on Barton's lips. Lane and Jackson, well Lane was pretending to be jetlagged and on the other hand Jackson was jumping around the area like a hyper kid on a vacation asking about everything and anything.

Barton laughed on the inside, Jackson didn't need to act, that was his real self actually. But not to underestimate the kid, the kid by his hyperness and jumping around had already done a through lookout of the area and probably known how to hack in and out of the place as well as done emergency exits, plans bomb detonation of the place and ways to work with the plans of the place. The kid had already probably hacked into the security system of the place and would be tinkering with the cameras as soon as they went up to their rooms. Jackson was good like that. Lane on the other hand was lazily keeping his eyes out for suspicious characters.

The sound of someone arriving and the slight and hurried little fight between two bellhops to help the new guests caught Barton's attention. As well as the familiar musical laugh that reached his ear and immediately made the receptionist he was flirting with scowl in the ugliest manner. He gritted his teeth for a second, the Magpie had landed and she was up to her usual no good manners.

He didn't turn around, not even when the manager came out, a man who looked a little like Agent Coulson, eerie and downright weird when the man whistled lightly at the new comers and Barton was willing to bet it had something to do with Meyer. He still did not turn around, Barton was fuming a little on the inside, but when the Coulson-lookalike gave a smug little order to Jessica-the-perky-receptionist did he decide to look, "Hey Jessica, let me handle her, I uh mean them, okay? You scoot along."

Barton smoothly and very nonchalantly turned around to say something to Jackson, when he saw her and well, this was utmost embarrassing to admit, but his voice got caught in his throat. And why shouldn't it? Meyer was standing there wearing almost nothing! Well, that was a slight exaggeration, but still, it was almost right.

She stood there in these red shorts, if they could be called those, which stopped somewhere on her upper thighs and her long pale toned legs were exposed for everyone's ogling, she had these dainty no heels strappy sandal things on her feet. Her top was even worse; a layered pale pink tank top with little strings that went over her shoulders and it did not take any imagination at all to imagine what was under the top. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Her long hair was pulled up in a long ponytail leaving her neck, shoulders and everything so bare, she was gracefully skipping in holding onto Hobbs' arm, practically squishing her breasts into his arm and giggling and whispering things into his ear. Hobbs looked just like the smitten lover he was supposed to look like, then again with a woman like Meyer throwing herself at you, it wasn't that hard even if you did play for the other team. Clint glared at the seemingly happy and so much in love couple; maybe that was how Meyer distracted all those people she had robbed blind. Not only was she a thief, she was a con artist as well.

Clint stood there and fumed as Meyer, or Lucy as she was playing right then flirted her way into the place and god did she have to kiss Hobbs every now and then on the cheek? That was unprofessional even if they were playing the part of a loving couple; it was over doing it, that was what it was. Did she not know Hobbs was gay?

Clint gritted his teeth and finally seventeen minutes later they were escorted to different rooms. The brothers got three separate rooms while the loving couple got the honeymoon suite. After exactly twenty minutes of settling into their rooms, each of the agents gathered their equipment and with stealth that could only be found in a SHEILD trained agent, they sneaked into the honeymoon suite where Hobbs and Meyer were waiting.

When Clint entered the room, well things weren't as he had expected, in fact things weren't anything like his every other mission with a team. Sure Meyer had already set up all the maps, plans and schematics of the building they were to infiltrate and the security measures of the place as well as all the details of the goons in the place, she even had a good idea as to where their captured agent was. The leader of that particular group thought he was a CIA agent, every agent while being trained by SHIELD was always given an alias identifying them as someone from another government agency; the compromised agent's alias was of a CIA agent and the group who apprehended him were in the process of interrogating him. This was all fine and dandy, but what really floored Clint was the fact that Hobbs, Lane and Jackson weren't talking about the mission at all.

Turns out this mission would be different from all his other missions, because this mission started with a poker game.

No, no, really it all started with a poker game. All the members of the team changed into comfortable wears and just set up a table and took their respective seats, Jackson even got out some poker chips, god knows from where and Hobbs and Lane happily took their seats after getting their beers and chips. Clint merely stood in the doorway, agape.

What the fuck? Was it a mission with an agent's life on the line or a fucking lazy Saturday night poker get-together?

So he did exactly that, he demanded loudly and firmly, "Meyer, is this some kind of joke?"

Meyer had changed into a pair of tight black jeans and was lazily setting up the table answered nonchalantly, "Depends on your interpretation of the word 'this'."

By then Lane, Hobbs and Jackson had all lined up right behind her, looking uncomfortable and more than a little tense and very ready to go on the defense. Clint growled, this was a life and death situation and she was not even serious.

Clint bit out, crossing his arms across his chest, "The poker game."

Meyer replied wide-eyed and rather dramatically stoic, "Barton, I have no idea how you do things, but when it comes to poker, I take things very seriously and it most certainly isn't a joke."

Clint barely held in the urge to tackle her and strangle her. He snarled, "Not the game, Meyer, the mission. Why the fuck are you playing poker on a mission?"

Meyer sat down and shrugged, looking not even the slightest bit ruffled, by either his tone or him questioning her authority. She placed her chin on her palm and asked Jackson, "Jackson, why are we playing poker on a mission?"

Clint turned his glare, full force on the kid and while every other time it made Jackson piss his pants, this time Jackson stared right back at him and replied like a dutiful agent, "To pass the next seven hours, Agent Meyer."

Clint was puzzled by then. He really was. How was it that he didn't get what was going on, but Jackson, Hobbs and Lane knew exactly what Meyer had planned out? He looked back at Hobbs and Lane, they had taken their seats at the table and were waiting.

Clint was suddenly caught in the intensity of Meyer's gaze. He just stared at her and she looked back at him without giving anything away. Clint realized something, it didn't matter that Meyer failed at being a proper team leader by not giving him or the team the details of the plan, what mattered right then was the fact that Clint was breaking the chain of command and rebelling against the team leader and that was exactly what was going to show up on the mission report. As he stared harder into Meyer's eyes, he decided that he wasn't going to back down, consequences from the mission report be damned.

Meyer didn't even blink, her face was a careful mask free from emotions as she asked Hobbs, "Hobbs, tell me, what's my specialty and the exact designation given to this mission?"

Hobbs answered promptly, "Retrieval specialty and it is a retrieval mission, Agent Meyer."

Clint gritted his teeth; she wasn't backing down either or making much sense to be perfectly honest. She was clearly a horrible choice for a team leader. She then cocked her head to the side and gave Clint a slow and thorough once over all the way from his feet to his head, her gaze heating him up in two ways; flattering, almost arousing and disturbing, borderline irritating. Clint kept his stance and stared her down. He wasn't going to back down.

Meyer asked him curiously, "Tell me, Barton how fast can you scale up a building unnoticed?"

Clint, to be perfectly honest, that question kind of floored him. Well, during a perfectly logical argument if anyone is asked such a question that would be the logical reaction. Before he could even answer, Meyer fired another completely weird question, "Could you fit into a ventilation shaft then?"

Clint opened his mouth to just ask her what the fuck was she getting at, when she said matter-of-factly, "No, you are far too thick to fit into the vents. Too much muscle on you and clearly not limber enough."

Clint stared at her with his mouth slightly open as Meyer continued, "You aren't all that flexible and you weight too much, so sneaking you into that building undetected would be quite difficult."

She knocked her fist on the surface of the table once and as if with that one single action of her's Clint suddenly felt kind of reprimanded. He was slowly seeing her point. Meyer explained, her voice both soft and firm, "Barton, I am a retrieval specialist. My job is to retrieve things and in this case I have to retrieve a compromised agent. Jackson and I already have the building plans and the info on the people in the building. I will be getting into the building my way, because that is what I do best. Jackson will be my tech guy keeping an eye on me and keeping my coast clear, because that is what he does best. Hobbs and Lane are my backup, they will come after me if I need them or if I have guys on me, because that is what they do best."

Clint suddenly felt fixed on a spot and his eyes couldn't move from her eyes. To his ego's disgust, she was making absolute sense and he was proved wrong. She continued, "You Barton, will be on a vantage point keeping your eyes on me at all times while I get into the building and get out with our agent; you will be on a higher ground with your equipment and keep me safe from afar. I need your sight to see what Jackson or I can't see and if need be guide Hobbs and Lane to me from your point, because that is what you do best, Barton."

Clint would never admit it, but it was then that he saw a side of Meyer he never wanted to see. She was a good team leader, she was using every one's skills to the full potential and had everything planned out. For that particular mission, they were all perfect. Separately, they were all different components and couldn't possibly of any use to this mission, but together they were the perfect retrieval team. A thief, a sniper, two field agents and a hacker, they were an odd group, but it looked like Meyer could make it work.

Fucking hell, she was right and her plan was brilliant, everyone would be at their absolute best. He did not want to admit it at all. As much as being proved wrong and that too in front of younger agents hurt, his trust in Meyer's ability strengthened as did most of his issues with her as a team leader dissipate. A part of his mind suddenly saw why Hobbs, Lane, Jackson, Coulson and Tasha trusted her skills even though she clearly had no sense of professionalism or propriety.

Coulson knew everything about her and had worked with her for a long time, so he was used to her style. Because of Coulson's unfaltering trust, Hobbs did exactly as Meyer said. If Meyer said jump, then Hobbs would ask how high. Hobbs idolized Coulson and his idol adored Meyer and placed absolute trust in her abilities, so it never even occurred to Hobbs to question Meyer. Lane was Hobbs' best friend and Lane had worked with Meyer a few times before. Although Lane mostly played Meyer's cover and did nothing substantial when it came to missions with Meyer. Jackson was head over heels in puppy love with Meyer and well, Meyer would only need to bat her long eyelashes at the kid and he would happily jump off a building for her. Natasha and Meyer worked together a lot, that much Clint knew and despite the fact that Natasha kept her lips sealed as to how she knew Meyer or anything about Meyer, Natasha clearly considered the thief one of her closest people and Natasha did not have too many of those. Therefore, Natasha was very much used to Meyer and her fucked up ways.

But for Clint, it was never easy or possible to trust Meyer and her abilities so implicitly. He didn't know a thing about her and she kept it that way. He dug around for more about her, but found it to be fruitless. Her behavior made it so that every never of his body was always on the edge and she was too damned unprofessional, especially when lives were at stake. Nothing was very serious about her and she always was too fucking reckless and cocky. How could he ever in his right mind trust a thief and one that lived to get on all of his nerves?

Just this once, or maybe for every other time Clint would have to endure her on a mission, he supposed he could put his trust in her abilities, since she clearly knew what she was doing despite her fucked up methods. Maybe that was how thieves worked.

She obviously put her trust in his abilities. That stroked his pride in his marksmanship and quite frankly flattered him beyond no recognition since this was the first compliment he had ever received from the insulting tongue of Meyer's if she did not complete be ignorant of him. She never thought much of him, but during this mission, she was his leader, she wasn't rubbing that fact into his face, which he had expected from her. Moreover, she chose to give him a very important task of keeping his eyes on her and keep her safe, complimenting his skills; that was something he did not expect at all. She was continuously surprising him.

Still, maybe she was getting too damned cocky and she was reckless, there was no doubt about that. She was also a thief, so he couldn't be blindly trusting of her, so it was only natural that he kept his eyes on her at all times to ensure no fuck ups.

So he gave a firm nod to Meyer's questioning raised brow and took a seat at the table. He couldn't fucking believe that he was playing poker during a mission. Then again, he could just afford to sit back and enjoy the game. After all he was rather good at it and he had planned on beating the cocky thief and emptying her pockets. She deserved it after all the trouble she put him through.

An hour and a half into the game, Clint was sweating bullets. Hobbs was beyond terrible at poker, yet he kept on playing and trying so very hard to impress both Meyer and him. Hobbs had the most obvious of tells and his poker face was shit. Lane was average. Jackson surprisingly turned out to be a very good poker player, not as good as him, but much better than lane and Hobbs. The kid had a good poker face and knew exactly when to fold or not.

The problem wasn't them though. No, the problem was that damned thief again. She was a really fucking good poker player, Clint would never call her great even if she deserved it. It was beyond frustrating to watch her pile of chips grow larger and larger by each hand. She played poker like a pro and that was saying something since Clint knew some pros and played with them every now and then. She was great at reading others and giving nothing away, that much was obvious. Her poker face was impenetrable even by his eyes. And he watched very closely for tells, she had none. At least no tell he saw.

While talking with everyone during the game, he found out many things about everyone. Hobbs was dating a man in his apartment building, a bar owner. Lane snorted and pointed out that the guy was Hobbs' fuck-buddy and Hobbs was now being pressurized by him into dating. Meyer and Jackson agreed that agreeing to any relationship, sexual or otherwise; with a neighbor was a very big no-no. Clint agreed; breakups then got incredibly messy. Hobbs just shrugged and said that the guy didn't ask many questions and then pointed out that it was Lane and his sister who kept on nagging at him that he didn't have a love life. Then the topic went onto Hobbs' sister who was actually Lane's girlfriend for a year and a half and a ballet teacher for little girls. Lane was giddily in love with her and was planning on getting a dog for her birthday gift. Then, came the discussion about what type of dog to get for her. Jackson suggested a lab because he thought they were playful, Hobbs suggested a dalmatian pup because he thought his sister would find it cute because of the spots, Clint suggested a collie since they are intelligent and loyal, but it was Meyer's suggestion which made them all pause and stare at her in a bit of a shock.

She shook her head and said matter-of-factly, "You want to get your girl a good dog, Lane? Then get her a bullmastiff. It's a hybrid of a bulldog and a mastiff. They are fucking fierce. Very loyal to their masters, extremely strong and very brave. Not only do they bite hard, they literally tackle intruders to the ground and then continue to pin them down. The baddest of bad-ass guard-dogs!"

No one at the table missed the irony of that statement. A thief recommending a guard-dog! Hobbs was nodding along, as if each word from her lips was the word of a prophet or something. Lane was too stunned to react, in fact, he was so stunned that he didn't notice that he held his cards a little to the right giving Clint a good view of them. He had a seven and a nine. Jackson stared at her with wide eyes and managed to somehow ask, "Um, you speak from experience, Agent Meyer?"

Clint barely held in his snort. Meyer rolled her eyes and replied, "Well, yeah. I was recommending a dog, wasn't I? So I am using my experience to tell you which dog would be better to be both a companion for your girl, Lane and a very good guardian."

Lane was still a bit stunned. Clint asked a bit bitingly, "So the self-proclaimed greatest thief in the world can't get across a bullmastiff or is she just scared of that particular dog?"

As usual, his insults didn't seem to take to her. She merely looked straight at him through those hazel eyes and deadpanned, "Never picked the route with the dog in it and not at all scared of them."

Clint couldn't help it, he wanted to know more and really, that was a further challenge to goad her, "If you aren't scared of them, then what?"

She wrinkled her nose a little and then said with what looked like a little pout, "There are many ways to get to an object I want. I never choose the way which has a dog in it."

Clint put his cards flat on the table and crossed his arms across his chest and demanded, "Why?"

The pout on her pretty lips looked more pronounced and it made Clint's blood run a bit hotter than normal. He had the strongest urge to kiss that damned pout away from those lips, but he resisted as she answered, "I find dogs irresistibly cute. So I avoid them when I am on a job."

Everything was silent. Hobbs kept on blinking, trying to process what she said, Jackson looked very red and was fidgeting in his seat, who knew what he was thinking. Lane was still quiet and stunned. Clint couldn't help it. He chuckled. Who knew Magpie, the greatest thief in the world, SHIELD's bad-ass retrieval specialist had a soft spot for dogs? He wondered if Coulson and Natasha knew.

Lane suddenly declared confidently and finally, "That's it. I am getting Sophie a Bullmastiff no matter how hard it is to find one. If Meyer says Sophie will be most secure with that dog, then she damn well will be."

Now that statement caused everyone but Meyer at the table to look questioningly at Lane. Lane shrugged and replied, "What? She is the thief and she speaks from experience. It's not like any one of you spoke from experience. None of you even had a dog. Hobbs didn't have one as a kid, Jackson didn't either and I am willing to bet, you Barton never had a dog also."

Meyer got up from her seat to get herself a soda, but before she left, she just had to drop a small bomb on them and leave Clint to deal with it. The evil little conniving thief. She stated factually, "Well, to be fair, I never had a dog either and Barton here couldn't get a dog. He had monkeys, elephants, parrots, snakes, tigers and horses to make up for it though. He was a carnie, you know."

With that she was gone from the room to the next. Clint starred as stoically as he could to the three agape faces starring at him. He knew that they wanted an answer or an explanation, but he didn't want to give them any. So all he said was, "I didn't have any tigers or elephants."

He gritted his teeth and waited for the little mouthy thief to arrive. Forget strangling her, he wanted to turn her over his knee and spank that bottom of her's till she cried for mercy and begged for his forgiveness. And this spanking would have nothing to do with his pleasurable gratifications or anything kinky. No it would be about punishing her, he decided.

When she came back into the room, well the first thing his eyes landed on was that layered pink tank top and how perfectly she filled it. Okay fine, so the spanking was a bit kinky and had a little bit more to do with the pleasurable side than the punishment side, but hey, she sure as hell deserved it. And how the fuck did she know about his past when he got nothing on her's?


	6. The Aftermath and A Much Needed Talk

Hello Readers! Here is the new chapter. Lots of Meyer and Barton face-to-face time, so I hope you will enjoy it. Magpie is as usual up to no good and her damned unbearable arrogant self and being a pain in the behind as usual to our poor Hawk! Anyway, I hope you will like it. Please Review. Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Five**

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So how did the job go? Exceptionally well. Coulson especially said that Fury was impressed and that kind of was a very high compliment. But the fact that Coulson also added that Fury thought that Meyer, Jackson, Lane, Hobbs and him were a great retrieval team and they worked well together, that kind of unsettled Clint. He did not want to work under Meyer's leadership and follow her reckless and crazy and downright eleventh hour plans.

See, Meyer had so very easily, in her tight black cat suit which had made Jackson and him feel uncomfortably hot, got into the building. She had actually climbed up on the roof undetected which was a feat in itself since there were guards all over the place, then she got into a vent, she followed her vent and all the way to where their compromised agent was being held.

Of course, before all of that Meyer actually roamed around the entire building for nearly two hours checking everything and everyone out, gathering info and actually finding out what was going on and she did all through the vents. That was how crazy she was. Clint actually was on a high vantage point keeping an eye on the building and listening to Jackson and Meyer talk inanely about some kind of computer game and some tv show.

The plan was to wait it out and then take the agent out of the building by any escape route, like a window or a door or even the vents, if needed Hobbs and Lane would create a diversion or a distraction for Meyer to safely get the agent out. But no, Meyer never did anything the easy way, at the very last minute, she changed the game plans and expected Clint to be her second in command and bark out orders if she was unable to.

While that kind of made Clint uncomfortable feel just a little good about her faith in him as her team mate, it also made him very damned pissed off at her since she had horrible plans. Her leadership skills sucked ass, but Hobbs, Lane and Jackson still listened to her and followed her orders to a T. In fact, Clint himself followed them through. She somehow managed it.

Anyway, she then ordered Hobbs to go and clean out the huge trash containers near the building, Hobbs while terribly confused did so and then followed Meyer's exact orders and kept the two containers lined up exactly where Meyers instructed him to. What happened next baffled the hell out of Clint, Meyer took a very simple but downright ridiculous route and secured the compromised agent and got him out safely without a single signal raised let alone have any rounds fired. Meyer got to the agent via the vent and then very slowly, cautiously and with the stealth skills of her years as a thief got the agent moving by the hallways, hiding in rooms and closets every now and then got him out of the building via a doorway, the back door to be precise and then put herself and the agent in two separate trash containers. Then she asked Lane to put on a pair of dirty coveralls she left behind and come and get the trash. Lane did it, and to Clint's slack-jawed expression that no one saw because he was high up on a rooftop, the plan worked.

Later in the flight back to HQ, Clint tried to ask her questions, she answered simply, their agent was hurt, and she was not a medical expert or even have medic training to know how to take care of the agent or keep him stabilized. She couldn't afford to get him out the hard way, so she chose the easy way. So she had some sort of reasoning to her crazy, but that did not make her any less crazy, she still was crazy, overconfident, reckless and unbearably cocky.

Clint had watched Meyer even more closely during the flight. She had asked Jackson to get some sleep, who proceeded to sleep like the baby he was. Hobbs was busy keeping an eye on the compromised agent since Hobbs was the only one with some medic training no matter how limited it was. Lane took a seat right by Hobbs and helped in however he could. Meyer went back to calmly reading her trashy novel. Clint noticed that she was a fast reader. She was done with that book in minutes and was onto another trashy novel she had pulled out from the bag she carried around.

Lane had noticed too, which Clint counted as a trait for the younger agent, he was going to mention it for Lane's recommendation in the future. When Lane had asked Meyer as to why she didn't just get a Kindle and read the books on it rather than carrying about all those books, she had smiled and explained sweetly that she liked the feel and smell of a book, it calmed her.

A part of Clint found that endearing for the briefest of seconds then he remembered how Meyer actually was and what she was reading. Trashy smutty books calmed her? She was a freak of the highest class. Moreover if the way she was, if she called that calm, Clint did not want to find out how she was when she was not calm. Clint grumbled to himself, he knew that the thief was a cookie one.

By the time they had reached HQ, the compromised agent was rushed off for medical care since he was rather hurt, and everything else was sorted out quite quickly by a chilly Agent Hill. Throughout the brief mission report, to Agent Hill's utter irritation, Clint's exasperation, Hobbs' nervousness, Lane's tiredness and Jackson's giddy excitement, Meyer was unbearably peppy and gave annoying answers that consisted of answers like, "yeeeep", "noooope", "wellllll", "you seeeeee", and "you gotcha, boss."

Maria Hill was gritting her teeth loudly by the end of the briefing and Clint had taken a step closer to Meyer's side in order to push her aside and jump in between, if Hill decided to damn it all to hell and tackled Meyer. By the end of the briefing, Clint and the rest of the team had literally breathed out in relief and where actually smiling a little after being through that nerve wrecking briefing Meyer and Hill put them through. Tension radiating from Hill was downright crackling and Meyer kept on egging her on with her annoying and persistent perkiness. But with Meyer things are never simple and Clint learned that once more as Meyer went on and reeled Hill in just as the briefing was done.

Clint was stunned, Meyer had called out Hill eagerly and handed her a small brightly wrapped gift box quickly and flitted out of the room. Once more the room was filled with tension as Hill stared at the neon green and orange wrapped box in her hand with steely eyes.

There was a common thought that had rang through every agent in the room except of course Agent Hills' who was still staring at the repellent box in her hand, that common thought was…Oh Fuck, now she did it!

With calmness that really was the calm before the fucking storm, Hill undid the wrapping and took out a small purple box and she opened it. With morbid curiosity, every Agent in the room sort of scooted a bit near to the about-to-blow-like-a-time-bomb Agent Hill, and peaked in. There to every one's utter befuddlement laid in soft cotton a small figurine. A figurine of two little teddy bears wearing yellow and red raincoats and boots, hugging under a red and yellow umbrella.

Clint knew immediately what it was. That was Meyer's stupid need to piss off Hill by buying her outrageous little figurines from all over the world. Hobbs knew it too, and Lane looked confused, but Hobbs quickly whispered him the explanation. Jackson actually uttered out loud, "Awww. That's so sweet. She got you a present."

Hill had turned to glare poisonously at the young hacker, at his supposed taunt, which made said hacker jump up and squeak in fear and then run out of the room. The funny thing was that Jackson actually genuinely meant what he had said. It wasn't a taunt at all. She then proceeded to glare at everyone else in the room, which of course made everybody rush off to do something or the other and be anywhere else but there.

Clint though had managed to catch Hill briskly walk away stuffing the small box in one of her pockets. Clint frowned at that, Meyer had a weird relationship with Hill. Hill loathed Meyer and Meyer enjoyed being hated by her and was hell bent on being affectionate to Hill in her own damned annoying ways. Once again, Meyer was a cookie. Maybe there was a little truth in the fact that all the hot ones were indeed crazy. Meyer was a hot one and she was indeed crazy.

But then after sometime, it hit Clint. Meyer always got Hill those weird trinkets from the place she was at for her mission. That was what was kind of the special thing about those figurines. Coulson always said that, but if that was true then when exactly did she get that figurine when she was locked in a room with the team and then stuck in a building of hostile targets and crawling through a ventilation system and dragging the compromised agent out? When did she go out and buy it? It didn't make any sense.

By the time he had cleaned up and was drinking coffee, Meyer turned up, all cleaned up and in a pair of grey jeans and a dark green t-shirt, her hair was damp and put up. Although she looked temptingly fresh and that did make him feel more attentive than necessary, her whole energized look was making him feel annoyed. The whole team was tired, while she looked like she had a decent night's sleep, was not starving and did not spend almost the entire evening and a night crawling through vents, dragging a half-paralyzed man along and dodge trigger happy men in a building; that made him feel even crankier than necessary. What was she? That damned Energizer Bunny?

She took a seat across him with her own mug of coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, a huge one, and she proceeded to break tiny pieces of it off and nibble on them. Clint kept his narrowed eyes on her trying to figure her out.

After a few minutes of him watching her and her ignoring his eyes, he finally asked, "When did you get the bears? You never left the hotel room."

Meyer took her eyes of her cookie and looked at him, not at his general direction but really at him. Then she blinked her hazel eyes, which looked a bit greener then in an owlish manner. Twice she blinked and then asked bluntly, "You say something?"

Clint huffed, she was for sure doing that on purpose. She lived to agitate him, he asked again, this time his voice was all steel, "When did you get that awful present for Hill?"

She took a long sip of her coffee and then answered, "On the mission."

Clint could feel his blood pressure rising just a bit, she just had to be difficult, he almost growled out impatiently, "When on the mission? You never left the damned hotel room or our sight."

She popped a small piece of her cookie in her mouth and retorted, her eyes alight with mischief, "If you are inquiring about the present then it really can't be all that awful as you make it out to be, can it?"

Clint snorted and snapped back, "We could ask Hill about that. She would love to give her detailed opinion on that present."

Meyer shrugged and replied, "She is just a grumpy person. She liked it fine, but she won't say that. It's a part of Maria Hill's personality and charm. It's why I like her; she makes me work for her smiles. She isn't always cranky, you know. Just most of the time."

Clint couldn't help it. He really was waiting for her to start laughing and indicate that whatever she had spouted off was really a joke. She liked Maria Hill? Maria Hill grumpy and cranky? Hell, Maria Hill smiling and actually liking her horrible figurines? What the hell was in that cookie?

Clint deadpanned, "Maria Hill finds you an insufferable twit."

Meyer nodded once and volleyed back with a straight face, "And she finds you to be a trigger happy stalker."

Clint argued, "I am not trigger happy and nor am I a stalker."

Meyer shook her head and said with a sweet smile, "Oh no, you just like watching certain people for long periods of time with no boundaries of privacy and later you just shoot them off from unsuspecting places. Nothing stalker-y or trigger happy about that, right?"

Clint gritted out, "I just do what I am assigned to do."

Meyer shrugged once more and replied with a serious look in her eyes, "I do as I am assigned as well. But that does not change nor excuse us or from people forming certain perceptions of us. So Maria Hill or others like her may think whatever they want but we are clear as long as we do our jobs right. I may be a twit and you may be a stalker, but who is to say that people don't like twits and stalkers?"

Clit glared at her as his temper cooled down and emotions swirled within him. What was she? She was so insufferable with her attitude, sass, overconfidence, recklessness and total disregard for authority and other people's feelings, but then she goes around saying things like that and proving that she actually has a little thinking going around in that head of her's. Thinking which was quite in depth in its quality. She liked keeping everyone on their toes.

Clint leaned back in his seat and sipped his own coffee. He didn't make a face, but Meyer did, and he agreed silently, the coffee there wasn't any good. Clint was used to it, but Meyer wasn't, she always was asking around for a complaint form to register her very important complaints about SHIELD's awful coffee.

The lighting in the room was reflecting off her dark hair, because it was damp, it looked black and hid the reds in it. The scents of vanilla and lavender were very strong around her and were kind of drowning Clint and for once he didn't mind it. It was kind of soothing, even if she was infuriating. He asked again, "So, when did you get it?"

Meyer placed her chin on a palm and looked across the room, she answered, "I saw a little shop when I was coming in the hotel with Hobbs. Because we were dallying a bit of time, we browsed a few shops and I noticed the bears. Back in the hotel I went right before I took my before mission shower."

Clint frowned a little, "You mean you went out while you were with us? During your nearly two hours long shower?"

Meyer shrugged, "My before mission showers help with my mission, you know. I stretch and warm up and make some last minute preparations and just focus. But yeah, I saw that there was a window in the bathroom, and I could fit in it, it took me fifteen minutes. I went out got the bears from the shop and came back in."

Clint glared at her and told her lowly, "That is against mission protocols. I should take this up to Fury."

Meyer snorted, "Why? Because I would be spying against a spy organization?"

Clint seethed, "Yes, that is exactly why."

Meyer replied, "I am a thief, not a spy. Besides, Fury knows. I tell Fury everything. You see, Nick and I have a very special relationship."

Clint still accused and her words were only angering him more, "You jeopardized the mission and all of your mission's safety because you wanted to go out and buy a damn figurine."

Meyer narrowed her eyes at him and replied with a smirk, "Well, I never said I went out to only get a figurine, now did I?"

Clint frowned and demanded, "Explain."

Meyer sighed, her expression as if Clint was asking her to explain why cows were herbivorous creatures, and asked, "Well, didn't you even wonder how we had a pair of dirty coveralls that was Lane's size on hand?"

Clint froze for a second and things clicked. He said with a straight face, "So, you went and got that when you were out."

Meyer gave him an overly smug smile in return which only made Clint feel even sourer. God how he wished that he wouldn't ever have to be on a team with Meyer as its leader, she was a reckless team leader to be working under.

She tapped her fingers against her soft pale cheek and continued to stare across the room at nothing. Her nails were once again painted, when she did that, Clint wondered. This time they were a shimmering purple. He continued to stare at her and after a few more seconds, Meyer asked, her voice sang of her boredom, "Anything else you would like to inquire about, Francis?"

What was with the woman, as soon as Clint calmed himself down, she just had to go and infuriate him all over again. But this time Clint wasn't going to let it go and just sit back and continue to watch her. He wanted some answers and this time he was going to directly ask her.

He watched her intently and then asked, his voice deceptively calm, "Yes, I do have something else to inquire about, Meyer. How is that your file, your specific file is of a higher clearance than mine?"

Clint's gaze was particularly drawn onto her when she pursed her dark pink lips together and seemed to consider his question. Clint really was expecting her to skirt around the question, or just ignore him like she did most of the time. Hell he even expected her to goad him on or piss him off to avoid this confrontation completely, what he didn't expect was her to engage him. She flicked her eyes back to his face, with a raised eyebrow and her impish smile she asked back, "You mean, how is that a mere thief's background is essentially far more heavily guarded by SHIELD than SHIELD'S best sniper?"

That was both a stroke to his ego and a high heel of a shoe puncturing his ego, a compliment and an insult, both at the same time. Oh how he loathed her, but he loathed the fact that he felt a tiny warm glow of pride at her calling him SHIELD's best sniper. It was a similar feeling as to when she had casually said that he would be her second-in-command in their last mission because he was the most experienced in the field. So, Clint just looked at her and confirmed, "Yes, that is exactly what I am asking."

Suddenly, Meyer gave him a look which Clint could only best describe as a wide-eyed look, and a part of him disturbingly found her adorable. He cursed himself for even entertaining that thought briefly, she was a damned good con artist he told himself. She asked him with a straight face, "Did you ask Fury nicely to keep your file locked up all nice and tight?"

There she went again pissing him off, but he wasn't going to let her lead him around merry little freaking circles and not get any damned answers. He snapped, "No and don't take that tone with me! In case you forgot we don't exist in the real world anymore. So that kind of complicates asking Fury that question, nicely or not!"

She looked amused and that just irked him. She smirked and asked slyly, "So what you are actually wondering is why am I all that important! Why all the secrecy about me, the thief and not you, the expert assassin?"

Clint really couldn't handle that smug look on her face, he would have frankly asked Natasha to beat her up good in a hand-to-hand spar because he didn't hit girls for vengeance, but unfortunately for him Natasha liked her for some ungodly reason and so he had to stomach Meyer's smug face right then. He gritted out, "Just answer the damn question!"

She smiled sweetly, leaned in just a little closer and whispered almost conspiratorially, "Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe your file and my file are of the same clearance level and I am just a thief with mad skills and got to your file the traditional rule-breaking criminal way just to sate my curiosity?"

She sold him the idea brilliantly and he had staggered, if he was to be honest. So he blurted out, "Wait, did you? I thought you had the proper clearance and checked out my file. I thought you were authorized to."

His accusations seemed to make her look tickled. She looked all giggly. She replied all smiles, "Well, no I didn't."

Clint snapped, "Quit fucking around!"

This time Meyer did let out a little laugh, her musical little laugh. She really was enjoying this and Clint loathed her for it. She answered, all haughty, "See, I do have a clearance level higher than yours so I checked out your file, but my higher clearance level isn't the point here. If I wouldn't have the clearance level needed I would have accessed those files anyway just because I wanted to. Comes with the territory of being a thief!"

Clint slapped his hands on the table between them to stop from reaching out and wrapping his hands around that pretty little throat of hers. He barked, "So why the fuck do you get a higher clearance than I do? Clearly you don't fucking need it!"

Meyer countered seriously, "I think Phil and Hill told Fury that giving me high clearance level would most probably take away my cause to hack into SHIELD's systems. Taking away the word 'forbidden' from the fruit allows the appeal of the fruit to rapidly diminish into nothing. Hence, my impulsive need to break-into SHIELD'S systems and get to files which are locked up all nice and tight are curbed."

Clint really couldn't believe that. Really he couldn't even when a tiny part of his mind was actually agreeing with this hypothesis since Meyer was an impulsive, reckless little thief and this was something that Phil and Hill would have come up with. No, there was something more to this, there had to be. Meyer was probably leading him around. He deadpanned, "Do you seriously expect me to believe that crap you just spouted?"

Meyer asked him honestly, "Why do my amazing thieving skills irk you so? You don't see me dissing you and your bow and arrows, Frannie!"

Every single freaking time she called him by that infernal name, he wanted to hurt her. He glared at her murderously and while that look would have made even the most hard-core agents of SHIELD back off if not piss their pants, it rolled right off of Meyer like water. Clint sneered, "See that's the thing, right there. You don't take anything seriously!"

Meyer snorted and said dismissively, "I steal things, not kill people. I don't have to be serious, you do!"

There was some twisted logic to that statement right there but Clint was not going to acknowledge it let alone admit it, to himself or anybody else. Clint spat out, this time really quiet angry, his voice was al cold steel, "I can't work with a thief. Doesn't really inspire the level of trust towards a fellow agent I need on a mission of life and death. Especially not with this attitude of yours."

Meyer mock-gasped, slapping a hand to her throat dramatically and exclaimed, "Oh no! You mean you need to read all my medical files, high school report cards, letters I wrote to my grandma, clips of my homemade pornos, receipts to my favorite takeaways, the list of my supposed accomplices, partners, jobs and basically my life story in a disc to trust me?"

Quite honestly, his mind was a little bit stuck on the homemade porno part. Did she or didn't she? With whom or with how many people? What did she do in them? Or was it a kink of hers? It took all his self control to get his mind focused on all her words and back on track.

Okay, when she said it like that it made him sound like the defected person here, like he was wrong to want to know things about her when she was clearly a suspicious character. Hell, she knew everything about him, why couldn't he know about her? He retorted immediately and quite logically he might add, "Why shouldn't I? You know my fucking life story."

She nodded and replied matter-of-factly, "Yes, I do and there is a good reason for it but you are not going to like it."

Clint reply was more like a snarl that he didn't know he was capable of, but there was a limit to taunting he could take, "Try me!"

Meyer leaned back in her seat and slowly crossed her arms across her chest. Clint winced, why did that woman always try to distract him by making him focus on her other assets when he was so clearly trying to make an enraged point? She was clearly doing it on purpose, there was no other explanation. She knew she had a killer rack and she always used it to her advantage; well at least that was Clint's opinion. She replied nonchalantly, "Well, to be absolutely honest, I have a higher clearance level than you is because I am a much more important and valued asset to SHIELD than you, Barton."

This time Clint snorted dismissively, "Yeah fucking right!"

She was so full of hot air that it wasn't even funny. She shook her head and placed her hands on the table, her shimmering nail polish glinting at him. She insisted, "No, seriously. Think about it, Barton! What are you? A killer. Killers are quite frankly, a dime a dozen these days, but really, go ahead and find a thief of my skills, my caliber, experience and expertise. You won't find one. I really am the world's greatest thief!"

Clint could feel himself flushing with anger; he could literally feel his blood boiling. Did she not know when to quit? He shook his head, disgusted with her; he bit out, "Is this going somewhere, Meyer? Because I hear nothing but your high and mighty thinking of yourself which if I am quite frankly sure is completely baseless. You are narcissism at its best. Next thing I know, you'll want me to get on my knees and exclaim, 'All Hail Meyer!'"

Meyer's eyes had a disturbing glow in her eyes as she shrugged modestly and said demurely, "Oh if you want to, then I won't be stopping you!"

She even had the nerve to flutter her long eyelashes at him. Clint sighed exasperatedly. Meyer gave him a steady look and still persisted confidently, "No really, Barton, think about it! My narcissism aside, SHIELD is essentially a great big spy organization. So you tell me which is more important to SHIELD, a killer who never misses or a thief can steal anything and never get caught?"

Clint couldn't help it, he let out a chuckle, albeit a dark little chuckle as he regarded her with hooded eyes. He stated, "This is all a great figment of your narcissist imagination."

But right at that moment, something just passed between them. What it was, Clint didn't know, all he knew was that this was a moment that was all Meyer's and his. There was something indefinable, invisible and probably miniscule between them. He knew that because, Meyer's mischievous hazel eyes had dropped to the table for a second and then rose up to his. Her gaze was soft and she had a smile directed at him. That smile was just for him and it was as if she was charmed by him. Because that smile was too darned pretty.

There was no challenge, no bite, no bark, no goading, no insults in that moment, or her smile or her eyes. That smile, those eyes and that face felt somehow imprinted in the back of his mind and he felt the violent flight of butterflies in his stomach. That was a feeling he wasn't expecting. He was expecting being stunned by her smile, or hell, even a little tightening in his pants, but not the fucking butterflies. No, those were only reserved for nice civilian girls he dated briefly to get the loneliness out of his system.

He had to force himself to break out of her gaze. He looked down at the table and shook his head very lightly. He told himself firmly, she was just a brilliant con artist and a beautiful woman. So the butterflies were a side-effect of that smile and he told himself that she probably used that very same smile to distract someone and steal their most prized possession right from under their noses.

It was her soft voice that made him look right back up at her. Damn it, her impish look was back on and she looked even more conceited than ever as she declared, "If it is a figment of my imagination, then it is. You still remain the world's best marksman and I still am the world's greatest thief. I still know everything about you, Francis, including that little red almost heart shaped birthmark on your left cheek and you know zilch about me!"

The fuck! She knew about his fucking birthmark, god damn it he really would have to kill her! He threatened with intent, "Do not make me use as a target practice!"

She smiled and retorted, "Nah! I'd escape your sight before you could even take the shot!"

So she had a point there. She was good at escaping his range of vision. He could hit her though, he could do it, he just never had a reason or an order to till this date. He said lowly and meaningfully, "If you know what is good for you, you will shut up!"

In the hindsight, that was probably the wrong thing to say to Meyer. She didn't see it as a threat, she saw it as a challenge. Because she goaded him smugly, "Doesn't feel good when someone disses your skills, now does it?"

No, it didn't, but he wasn't going to let her know it. He told her, announced it, declared it, challenged her, whatever, but he did it, "I am going to get your file. One way or another I'll do it!"

She retorted perkily, "Or you could just ask, use the normal way!"

Clint barked out a laugh, "No fucking way! That would only inflate your already enormous ego!"

She shook her head and said a little teasingly, "You never know! I may answer if I am in an agreeable mood!"

Clint smirked all razor blades. She wanted to tease, this time he would get one on her. He played her back; he narrowed her eyes and played his card, "Okay, then! Homemade porno?"

She didn't react like he wanted her to. She didn't blush, stammer or even be embarrassed in the smallest of ways. She smiled a small mysterious smile and said, "Wouldn't you like to know!"

He pushed her for more, taunting her, "I do, that's why I asked. What is it, Meyer? Embarrassed? Not in an agreeable mood to answer?"

She smiled, and sighed happily, all giddy she slowly stood up and replied, her voice all sugary sweet, "I am in an agreeable mood. I am in an agreeably teasing mood. So once again, Clint Francis Barton, I know something you don't know!"

With that she laughed her musical laugh and sashayed her way out of the room. Clint was left feeling disappointed. Not finding his answers, not getting what he wanted, that was all disappointment but there was also a curious unsatisfied little feeling left in the pit of his stomach. A part of him wanted Meyer to come back and continue where she left off. She got the last word and he didn't like it.


	7. Iron Man and Magpie: Bad Mix Says Fury

Hey Readers! I apologize for the super late update, but life got busy and I kind of had a severe case of writer's block. In fact, I still do, but I am working on remedying it. I hope you like it and Please Review. Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Six**

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It was no secret amongst the people in SHIELD that Director Fury had an invested interest in one Anthony Stark. That was not anything even remotely surprising considering the fact that Anthony Stark as well as being a genius playboy philanthropist was one of the world's technological innovator and well to put it bluntly the supplier of America's defense and sometimes offense weapons. Weapons of mass destruction to be more accurate and Anthony Stark made himself practically a king doing what he did.

But there was more to the matter of Anthony Stark, no one knew except the topmost tier of SHIELD's chain of command, but Anthony Stark's late father Howard Stark who also was a genius within his own right and left a huge lasting impression in the field of science as an innovator, was one of the founding members of SHIELD and at one point in time Nick Fury's good friend. So yes, Nick Fury had an interest in Anthony Stark.

To make matters worse, Anthony Stark while a genius and living the life of the smarmiest of playboys had more issues than the garden variety type heirs to multibillion dollar business empires. Most of the issues were results of an absent neglectful and never pleased father and a little boy while having IQ off the charts for his age could never be anything worthwhile in his father's eyes. A man who went about changing the world and making technological advancement ahead of time but had no idea about what went on in his only child's life. But all the blame could not possibly be laid on the late Howard Stark's feet, the once child Anthony Stark could have turned out differently if perhaps his late mother Maria Stark was there. But she died when he was a child and Anthony after that had no real nurturing care or guidance in his life. So he turned out like he turned out.

Anthony Stark cared for nothing more than creating new things, being the best of the best, having the last word, being regarded as the most intelligent of them all, booze, the life of the party, fast cars and loose women. Anthony Stark never saw what kind of damage his creations were capable of. He was amazingly naïve like that. A fact that his appointed guardian at one point, one Obadiah Stane took great advantage of, twisting about Anthony's great trust in him and playing his need for a father figure. Since it did not fall in SHIELD's jurisdiction, Nick Fury kept mum and watched as Obadiah Stane took the Stark manufactured products, weapons and technologies and sold it to the highest bidders; which of course meant that now terrorist had the same kinds of weapons that the defense system of America had and Anthony Stark was blissfully ignorant of all the chaos he unintentionally created.

So as time went on, things progressed and events occurred. But what happened next was an unexpected little shock. Anthony Stark was in Afghanistan and was gravely injured and taken captive by a terrorist group named the Ten Rings. While SHIELD knew exactly where he was and how very easily SHIELD could save him, it was an international issue. Everyone in the world had their eyes on Stark Industries, Stane, Anthony Stark and the whole gritty affair. Nick had to put on a deceptively blank face as he declared that SHIELD would be keeping an eye on the matter but wouldn't be participating in it at all.

It would have been child's play for Natasha to take care of the entire camp and get Stark out, even though the man had shrapnel in his chest and was being kept alive by a freaking battery. But Natasha kept mum and stood in line beside Agent Hill and Coulson. Clint had privately asked Coulson if he would have needed to take a small team in and taken care of the entire mess and no one would have known. Coulson had told him firmly that it was not SHIELD's mess to clean up. Clint had only offered because he had felt the worry brewing in the silent and brooding Director Fury, because the death of Anthony Stark would mean Stark Industry starting to sell weaponry in the open market. That would be an even bigger mess to clean up.

It was during a report on Anthony Stark and his fellow captive that Agent Meyer had very cheekily asked Fury if she could go and steal a certain playboy genius from the clutches of his evil captors. Fury just stared at her in stunned silence. No glare or reprimand. Hill glared at her though and Clint had barely held himself in check from banging his head on the nearest surface. Meyer had no sense of appropriate behavior. While everyone in the room waited with bated breaths for the harsh reprimand she was going to receive from the already surly Director, even Natasha looked a little tense; Meyer kept on smiling cheekily with utter obliviousness to her impending doom.

What happened next was an utter surprise as the Director suddenly smirked and said, "No, Agent Meyer. That will not be needed."

Days later, it came about that Anthony Stark had built a suit with the help of his fellow captive Yinsen that ran on this genius energy source, an electric generator called an arc reactor which was unbelievably powerful and that kept the shrapnel in his chest from tearing apart his heart, and wearing the suit he had obliterated the camp and flew out and crash landed in a desert. He was saved later on by his best friend Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes and his team.

Coulson after that incident watched a slightly smiling Director Fury, which was creepy according to Clint, and said to Clint exactly why Fury had not torn a new one to Meyer that day in the meeting room. Apparently, Tony Stark and Agent Meyer had many things in common and when Meyer had cockily asked Fury if she could do what she did best to get the playboy out of that camp, she reminded him that Tony was also cocky, just as talented as her when it came to his work and would get himself out of the situation with his brains, cockiness and recklessness alone. Besides, while Meyer just wanted a little thrill by saving him, Tony would have to save his own life, fight or flight and Tony did both. Also, Tony had needed to see what his company was doing to the world.

But Tony Stark by some sheer joke by the universe did not only share the good traits of one Estella Meyer, he also shared some of her bad traits as well and Clint hoped secretly that the two never met, because if they did, they could single handedly destroy cities in attempts to prove who was more of a cocky genius in his or her respective fields and it would fall on SHIELD to clean up their huge messes.

In the next few weeks, the world suffered huge shocks in the form of Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane. It turned out that Stane was the one who had approached the Ten Rings to eliminate Tony Stark permanently, but since Stark was a genius weapons and technology creator and innovator, they took him hostage instead, planning on using his talents for their benefits. Stane wanted Stark Industries, but SHIELD already knew that and by the new intel SHIELD got it turned out that Stane and the Ten Rings had something even more grave planned. They had gathered broken and mangled pieces of the suit Tony used in his escaped and reverse engineered it. Then Stane had Tony's ultimate weapon in his hands.

Tony of course, by then had opened his eyes completely to all the damage his company did and everything dark that the empire he was sitting on did. The first thing he did and that had raised fury in the hornet's nest was declaring that his company, Stark Industries would no longer manufacture weapons. The day he did that, Clint swore he saw Fury smile.

The next thing he did, and it was Agent Meyer's expert recon skills which got that intel because getting into Tony Stark's home was more than a bit difficult, the man had one of the best security systems, was that Tony buried himself in his home and finished making his suit and it was more powerful than ever. That of course put Tony Stark on SHIELD's radar. The process had started and Coulson was almost giddy with the fact that Tony would soon be initiated into SHIELD because after that SHIELD would make sure that Tony kept in line.

Tony was capable of helping the world in ways that was unimaginable and with Iron Man helping SHIELD out every now and then, things would be simpler. Although most agents in SHIELD vehemently disagreed, as did Clint, Tony Stark had nothing on the expert agents of SHIELD except a shiny red suit, without it he was nothing. Meyer on the other hand was all for it, since she arrogantly and frequently rubbed the fact into everybody's faces, that while Tony could possibly and very flashily do everything all the other field agents of SHIELD could do, he could never do what she did even with his suit. The first few times some agents got into fights with her over that fact soon learned and backed off, because she made it very clear how no one could get into Stark's home for intel and she could and how Tony Stark couldn't do her job even if the item he was supposed to steal was handed to him on a silver platter.

Clint, Natasha, Coulson and Maria Hill all researched Tony Stark's files thoroughly, because eventually or if the situation was dire enough, they were the agents who would be asked to step in and SHIELD agents were always prepared. But the chances were that it would be Clint or Natasha who would be put undercover with Tony Stark. Agent Coulson had thought that Meyer would have been a good fit with Stark and made a good undercover agent assigned to him, in fact moments after Coulson suggested it, Clint couldn't shake of the images of Meyer with Stark, Meyer would match Stark inch for inch in the whole narcissist, egoistic, cocky, reckless, vain beyond imagination and crazy genius department; and the funniest thing was that Clint knew without a doubt that if someone could yank Tony Stark down from his seat high above and actually punch humbleness into his titanium thick skull, it was Meyer. Meyer was very much capable of turning Tony Stark down a few dozen notches.

At the very same time, Clint felt more than slightly nauseous at the thought of Stark and Meyer together. They were two mangled pieces which fit too right and the sickening feeling Clint got in his gut warned him of something foreboding about that particular pair. Clint just couldn't explain it. But it was Fury who got it in one and came to rescue and in the process eased all that ill feeling in Clint's gut.

Fury had given Coulson his most skeptic look and said, "Tony Stark and Agent Meyer are like two peas in a pod. They are too alike than I'd like to admit. While it would be a great cover for Meyer simply because she would gel so well with Stark, it would also be the entire assignments downfall. Meyer and Stark, if put together, well, they would mix; they would mix very well and in the end it would be one hell of a nuclear combination."

It was Agent Hill who fired back a question, "So you think Meyer would be intimately compromised with Stark?"

The question threw Coulson, Natasha and even Clint off. That question was one very insulting question when it came to an agent's capabilities. But that wasn't what threw them off. What threw them off and made them stare at Agent Hill with utter shock was the fact that Hill was insulted on Meyer's behalf and she was actually demanding more or less a retraction or a thorough explanation for Fury's judgment. Maria Hill defending Estella Meyer, pigs just had to be flying somewhere.

Like dominos falling in line, Natasha and Coulson stood behind Hill as well and Clint only stared. While he didn't react, the fact that Meyer could become sexually involved with someone like Tony Stark did not sit well with him at all. Even he knew Meyer was a professional. She had been doing what she had been doing for years, so not a playboy genius who was aging out fast and wasn't all that handsome wouldn't steer Meyer in the wrong direction. The simple fact was that Tony Stark couldn't possibly be man enough to just make Meyer fail at her assignment. Meyer was too much of a show-off to ever fail at a mission and that was a fact that Clint Barton was always made painfully aware of by Meyer herself.

Fury wasn't the list bit offended by his agent's angry defense or for them questioning his authority, he was amused. He smirked and replied, "I never said that Meyer would be compromised. All I am saying is that Meyer has a way of getting under anyone's skin. She could become anything to Tony Stark, she is unpredictable like that. But the highest probability would be that she would find a lot in common with Tony Stark and in the end become his friend and if that happened, she would rather help him out of messy situations rather than follow through her assignments. Again, the situation also applies on Stark. If he found Magpie, he would keep her. He has very few friends and in the end he would keep Meyer, even if it means he has to take her away from SHIELD."

By the end of that meeting it was quite clear that it would be Natasha who would be going after Tony Stark, she was the expert spy after all. There was also another matter that became quite clear at the end of the meeting, something that Clint did not want to admit. Both Agent Hill and he did not see eye to eye with Meyer and did not like working with her at all, but it came to be that Meyer although still wasn't very likable to them, she had managed to acquire their grudging respect and sort of an alliance. They would back her up and defend her.

That was what had amused Fury and something that Coulson was smiling smugly over and Natasha was just a bit pleased about. Coulson was kind of silently holding over that fact over Agent Maria Hill's head that she liked Meyer even if it was just the most miniscule of amount, and Natasha had her eyes glinting at her partner Clint with the knowledge that her friend Meyer was a damn fine agent and Clint knew it and now he had vocally admitted it. Natasha had always been out to prove to Clint that her friend Meyer was a good agent and not the brat Clint made her out to be, at least not always.

But things went downhill in a matter of hours, Obadiah Stane made his move and it was a horrible move. While Tony Stark's assistant, Virginia Potts contacted Phil Coulson with more than sufficient proof to permanently put Stane behind bars, Tony Stark took on Obadiah Stane head on, suit to suit in a death match on Stark Industries property where Stark's very large and quite volatile energy generator was located. Well, first Stane got the suit built and attacked Stark, then Stark attacked him back and according to surveillance Stane had actually pulled out Stark's arc reactor right out of his chest. After the huge show down, which Virginia Potts helped out with, Stane met his end.

Meyer was away on a mission in Russia, later she sulked around Phil Coulson and Clint about missing out on two robots battling it out. Clint had corrected her that it was two men in suits and nothing to do with robots, but she ignored him and continued sulking. Something about how she always missed out on the great stuff and how Nick was always making her work so hard that she missed out on all the fun. Clint thought she really was a cookie.

SHIELD had to work fast about keeping everything under strict control as the massive scene was covered by every possible media available. It was a media mayhem. But for some insane reason, while it had every agent in SHIELD worrying, it put a disturbing twinkle in Fury's eye. Exposing the Iron Man Suit to the world meant giving all the people in the world a new weapon to fight over, a weapon that if made into an army could make a person the King of the world, to put it mildly.

But Iron Man belonged to Stark Industries, or to be more specific to Tony Stark alone and he wasn't going to give it up especially not after pulling Stark Industries out of the weapons manufacturing market. So when people would pressurize him to sell the idea of Iron Man to them, he would fight back and not do it and from what it looked like, Stark intended to use his suit by himself to help out whenever need came be.

In conclusion, Stark had unknowingly made himself an individual, an individual who had extraordinary powers. That was how Tony Stark ended up in those super confidential folders of SHIELD which detailed on the person of interest with extraordinary abilities. Meyer liked to call the folders the Superhero X-files.

Clint knew it and so did Natasha, Coulson and Hill, Fury was so going to collect Tony Stark eventually. An asset like that, the Iron Man suit, just begged to be utilized properly. Clint almost wanted to groan out loud at the thought of Tony Stark with in SHIELD. Natasha told him that maybe Stark wouldn't be so bad. She was going to check him out and give an evaluation later on after all. But it was her slight murmur that sent ice down Clint's back and stomach turn to lead.

"We just have to make sure that Magpie isn't around when Stark comes around. Mayhem averted."

Clint did not even want to imagine the pranks those two could come up with. Magpie was bad enough on her own.

The woman had an eerie way of almost always appearing when she was spoken about. Well, at least it almost always happened with Clint. Every time he thought about her and was in the HQ, she would pop out of somewhere. Then again that was probably one of her little tricks to being the annoying pest that she was. She got on every one's nerves eventually.

So while he was horrifically trapped in his little vision of Meyer meeting and teaming up with Stark to wreck havoc around the world in his head, in walked in Meyer in all her quirky glory. Only this time, she kind of zapped Clint with a ten thousand volt of lust through out of his body. Really Magpie was one of the sexiest women he had ever seen, there was no doubt about that, but the problem was that she was intolerable. She would always drive him to the point where he wanted to kill her or himself. Whatever god gave her in the physical department, he took away in her personality department. She annoyed him.

But that day, right at that time, he kind of forgot about her annoying personality as he looked at her from head to toe. Meyer right at that time looked like every man's naughty secretary fantasy and Clint had to slouch down a bit in his seat to hide a bit under the table. After he was sufficiently sure that the table covered his lap, he continued to memorize every detail on Meyer and her bodacious body then.

She looked a bit hurried as she a little clumsily tittered into the room in her insanely high black heels. Fuck, the way her long, smooth and pale walks moved in that insanely tight black pencil skirt; Clint visibly swallowed hard and he was sure he heard many other gulps and sighs from the men in that area. Hell, one of the junior agents just stood where he was standing to drop his mouth and stare unblinkingly at Meyer's rear. Now, that reaction made Clint want to see the back view as well. But for now he was more than happy, in fact certain parts of his anatomy were happy as well.

She had one of those slim book like tablets clutched in her hands and pressed to herself. In a grey shirt, her hair tied back in a professional looking up-do, biting her pink lips and looking every where she looked so unlike Meyer. That was when it hit Clint, that wasn't Magpie; that was one of Magpie's covers for a mission before him. She looked nervous and fidgety and the fantasy of every asshole of a boss's fantasy for a secretary.

God, she even had little black catty glasses perched on her nose, that kept on slipping down and she pushed them up. The way she tittered, Clint smirked, that should have warned him off. Meyer was always graceful, always. Climbing buildings, jumping off of buildings, getting into small spaces, walking on ropes between buildings, all of that did it to you, you couldn't help but be graceful. But this secretary, she was nervous and not confident like Meyer usually was. She didn't know how to balance herself or walk in that tight skirt and those high heels. Meyer on some missions got into places in gowns and heels to retrieve things. This was nothing.

But Clint blessed those heels for making this nervous cover of Meyer's for being all skippy and unbalanced like that. It made her breasts bounce in the most mesmerizing manner underneath that grey shirt and of course, the tablet pressed just under her bust helped elevate them. That was a great view. Clint leaned back and devoured the view, finding his day suddenly brightening just a little.

She walked in and walked straight to Coulson who looked very amused at seeing her. She looked at Clint for a quick second and Clint suddenly felt his pulse shoot up and those eyes of her's made his erection even worse. She sent him a quick smirk before looking to Natasha who was at the same table. She gave a questioning look to Natasha, Clint kind of froze then. Because he was suddenly aware that Natasha fucking Romanov had been watching him the entire time he had been lustily ogling her friend and his pain in the ass comrade, Meyer.

Just like that, at the prospect of Natasha knowing about his very dark secret and very guilty pleasure of enjoying certain views Meyer's presented, his blood froze and his body was back under control. He nonchalantly looked back at Natasha to find her smiling at Meyer and teasing, "Miss Meyer, might I see you in my office for a dictation?"

Clint barely held in that groan, now he had visions of calling Meyer in an office for a private dictation. Meyer laughed a little as Coulson chuckled along with her. But she looked very pleased with Natasha's teasing and clearly took it as a compliment.

Then she got on to discussing one of her missions with Coulson. Apparently she was asked to break down a certain security system of a company, now the entire operation needed an agent to place a small device under this guy's computer. That was how SHIELD was going to break in and temporarily track some of the files in that building. With enough evidence they were going to move the surveillance to permanent to track a target. But first a target needed to be set and it all depended on those files.

So Meyer needed to get into that room, and sneaking in wasn't an option. So she needed Phil Coulson to play her letch of a boss who was going to go in there for a meeting with her. Apparently the guy's office they were going to put the device in, was a letch and an asshole himself. So the entire get up worked out perfectly.

Clint and Natasha found themselves listening in on her plan and were both amused and intrigued. Clint couldn't help but be fascinated by how Meyer's odd brain worked.

She showed a tiny disk like thing to Coulson and then explained in flourish, "So, you stick this under his desk, which is near the window while I distract him by dropping things!"

Now, Clint thought that that was a plan full of holes. What were the chances of that man helping her? Or what if someone else helped her up? Clint wanted to point out the epic flaws in the plan and finally get something over Meyer's head, but saying something would mean that he wasn't working on some of his mission reports and was eavesdropping on her conversation. Besides, the temptation was snatched away by Coulson who pointed all of those flaws out. Damn it.

Coulson nodded once and asked in return, "You said he is a bastard. A huge one. So, logic says that he won't be helping you pick up your things! That's what gentlemen do."

Meyer rolled her eyes and said cheekily, "Don't be silly! He won't be helping me. He isn't one for manners. No, I will be bending over picking up all my things all by myself while he stares at my ass."

Okay, that one statement probably made every male in her nearest vicinity stop and tune in on that conversation. Clint himself had lost what little control he had over his libido and was picturing her bent over a table in that skirt and those heels. Fuck, what was wrong with her?

Natasha beside him actually let out a snort. Coulson who was still processing that statement asked, more like confirmed what he heard, "He would be staring at your ass?"

Meyer nodded once and explained like a school teacher, a little exasperated that Coulson wasn't catching on to her plan with more haste, "Of course, Philly. There will be a lot of things in my bag that I will drop and a lot of things I will be gathering clumsily whilst bent over. Why do you think I am wearing this skirt? It makes my ass look fabulous."

Clint licked his lip, she was kind of right. Her ass did look fabulous, more so today in that skirt. But did she have to stoop to such a level as to objectify herself? He felt more than a little angry at the bastard and the measures she had to take to get the job done. God, wasn't there any other way?

Apparently, Coulson had a similar line of thought, which wasn't surprising, because Coulson adored her and she was one of his favorites. They were good friends after all, being fellow nerds and all. Coulson nodded and replied, "That it does. But can't you do something else but that?"

Meyer considered for a moment and then shrugged, "Well, if you are offering to distract with your cute tooshie, I wouldn't mind."

Clint had to wince. There again went his arousal. Just the image of Phil Coulson in a pencil skirt bent over, offering his tooshie for everyone to view, well that just made him lose all sorts of appetite. Coulson immediately shook his head, held up his hands and admitted hurriedly, "No, I don't think my cute tooshie would be half as distracting as fabulous ass would be to him."

Meyer drummed her fingers on the table, as she thought about it. Making Coulson sweat a bit, Clint had to say, sometimes Meyer could be entertaining. He could see Coulson be a little bit nervous over the next and more humiliating idea Meyer could come up with if she felt a little insulted. Somehow his eyes drifted back to her nails, like they always did, her nails were bright purple with little pale pink polka dots on them.

Meyer nodded and said, "Oh yes, I guess you are right. We really do have to go on with my plan and ass!"

Coulson had a little frown on his face as he awkwardly agreed, "Erm…yes!"

She was going over a few more details when suddenly her hands clapped on the table. She had as expression on her face as if she remembered something dire and hurried reminded Coulson, "Oh Philly, don't forget to be a complete asshole to me. Smack my ass once or twice around him, call me sweet-cheeks and all sorts of comments full of innuendos about me to him."

Fuck it, she was crazy and she was driving him through hell. All Clint could think about was bending her over his lap and spanking that ass. For a moment he was filled with sheer envy and more than a little rage towards Coulson for being the one who got to do that. It was Natasha's input that made more than a little sense in this weird and crazy plan of Meyer's, "Good idea. Making him subconsciously fixate on your ass and making him zone on you as a target for his lechery."

Oh, was all Clint's mind said. Coulson seemed to be going through a similar realization, because the horror and mortification from his face had slid off as he agreed uncomfortably, "Oh, okay if you say so."

Meyer just replied with a matter-of-fact, "Of course I say so, it is my mission after all."

Coulson nodded and finally smiled, "Alright then, Magpie."

Clint was right. So was Natasha. Meyer could never meet Tony Stark. They would be nuclear together. Oh what do you know, Fury was right also.


	8. Waiting On Magpie

Hello Readers! I apologize for the very, very late update. I swear i haven't abandoned the story. its just that life is too busy right now with my work and my mother's health. Inspiration is running dry as well and whatever I write comes out as absolute crap. So I am just writing whatever comes to my head. Sometimes its a whole new story and idea, sometimes its nothing at all.

Today I am posting three chapters back to back and I hope this will make up for my long absence. The whole idea for these three chapters came from a quick dream I had and I typed it out as fast as I could. I don't know when inspiration will strike again, and I can't even promise to update soon. But I do promise this, I will write and continue this no matter how long it takes. Meyer or Magpie has become a favorite OC of mine and I do not plan on abandoning her.

Thanks a lot for your patience and all the reviews. I hope you like it and please Review. Happy Reading!

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Seven**

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Clint had all but groaned in utter irritation when he received his new assignment and why shouldn't he? He had more than ample reasoning for his upcoming migraine. Natasha was gone on a different assignment; one that everyone knew about, it was that public. Natasha was undercover and working on protecting handling and assessing Tony Stark. So now Clint was left without a partner and was paired up with whichever team needed his specific skill set or given solo assignments.

Clint was never a complainer and was very much fine with working with other people and he was more than fine on getting targets and taking them out as he was ordered. Clint was a good soldier. But this was something he did not want to accept, but his wants did not over-ride his orders, ever.

His new assignment was with the insufferable Agent Meyer and he had to use all his poker skills to school his face into an impassive mask when Agent Hill smugly handed him the file. He gritted his teeth in utter annoyance, as he read his assignment. It was a simple two-man assignment. The two had to get in an event, blend in and while one was to go obtain a certain memory disc from a heavily secured room, the other had to find a location where he could take out a specific target from. It really was a perfect job for a thief and a sniper.

It made perfect sense to have SHIELD's best thief and marksman on this job. But what truly irked Clint were two things. First being that he had to put up with Meyer's brand of crazy all on his own and swallow it all with a smile on his lips all for the sake of good team work and the second thing being the almost intolerable fact that Meyer was the leading agent of the assignment.

Oh god the horrors he was going to face! He spent the day and later his night collecting data on his target and preparing on how everything was going to be done on his end. He couldn't deny that the entire night his stomach had been up in knots about the all new kind of crazy Meyer was going to shove him under, after all everything was going to go according to her plans and her plans were always if nothing, unusual.

But there was a confident and unmoving part of him which knew that despite Meyer's reckless, crazy schemes and that intolerable arrogance, she was a good leader and he knew that she had complete trust in his abilities just like he had on her ability to acquire whatever she was asked to. He never missed a mark and she never came out of a mission empty handed, those were the hard facts their partnership was built on. Everything else would work out eventually and this was why assignments with Meyer were one hell of a crazy adventure.

The next day, with a lot of built up tolerance in him and vow to keep his cool, he waited for the arrival of the whirlwind of a woman named Meyer. He had to wait around for more than three hours and as Agent Coulson almost forced him out of his irritation by informing him that Meyer was not late, she was going to be on time, her arrival time that is. A carrier picked her up from Cape Town after she finished one assignment and she was going to land in a little while and then pick up her new assignment with him; she was already briefed on the new assignment in her transport.

As he waited this time a little more patiently, he had to admit he was almost impressed with her. Picking one assignment after another and that too back to back with no break in between, that was impressive, especially considering that SHIELD never gave anyone such a schedule without thoroughly evaluating their efficiency report, mission reports and psych eval. Knowing that Agent Hill cleared her and actually gave her those missions impressed him, just a little. That meant that Meyer was actually one of top tier agents, amongst the likes of Natasha and himself, even if her years were not as many as his and Natasha's with SHIELD. He would never admit it, let alone say it to Meyer to her face, but this proved more than anything that she wasn't just another overly glorified no-good thief of the streets. She really was one of the greatest thieves in the world if not the greatest thief in the world as she always smugly claimed to be.

He didn't have to wait for too long; he heard one of the newbie agents talk, Meyer had landed. So Clint kicked back and relaxed as he waited for Her Majesty, the Queen of Thieves to suit down, debrief and then grace him with her presence. She would definitely visit Hill before anyone else, with that annoyingly perky smile on her lips she would bounce all over the place as she would hand Hill one really weird figurine from Cape Town she got especially for Agent Hill. He snorted, typical Meyer.

It was a little while before Meyer came around. He had his eyes closed and there were a lot of people around him, everyone busy and constantly moving about. But what made him aware, his body all wired up and conscious of Meyer's presence or at least quickly nearing presence was the sound of her voice, her laugh and that heady scent of vanilla and lavender. His body was now conditioned to always associate Meyer with the scents of vanilla and lavender. It was as if the woman swam in a vat full of that scent every day. It bothered him more than a little how much that scent teased him and to his utter irritation aroused him.

She was laughing with another person, a woman. There were laughing like two very loud witches, full out cackling. Even with great effort, it made his lips twitch into a small smile, laughter like that was rare in agents, let alone laughter of such volume in the HQ. There was one thing that never changed in Meyer, her ability to laugh. She always had that, even in the most dire of situations; even if that laughter was at the expense of others. He opened his eyes slowly to look at her and whom he saw her with stopped his breath and made him gape, completely aghast.

There she was Meyer, but what the hell was she doing with Her? She was pushing Her affectionately and together they were cackling helplessly. How the fuck were they friends and how did he not know about that? Oh god, if she got along with Her, then that meant she had more than enough ammunition, no she had newer and far more dangerous ammunition to use on the people Meyer felt like picking on depending on her mood. He wondered if Natasha knew about this unholy union of SHIELD's two unstable women and if she did know about it then why the hell didn't she tell him about it? It would have been a warning he needed very sorely by the looks of things.

The woman he was talking about, was SHIELD's most daring, reckless and dangerous of pilots; her flying was par none and she could fly anything and in any condition. Her specialty was tactical flying and she could fly in and out of the most hostile and risky situations with utter smoothness. She was phenomenal in hostile, all out war zones and the problem with her was that she was no good at team work. She just didn't like people and she never did simple assignments. Fury only called her for extreme missions and she was a full out flying maverick.

She was Toni Adair, a five foot eleven inches woman built like a brick house with caramel brown hair, always glaring emerald green eyes and a mouth that never laughed equipped with a sharp tongue that always whipped the skin off of the people around her. She was also the woman who was famous for beating the shit out of the every other cocky male pilot who even dared to make an off comment about her let alone her flying. None of the other pilots were anywhere near her flying superiority and hated her with a burning passion.

Every field agent in SHIELD always wanted her as their on mission pilot, but nobody dared to approach her let alone ask for her. It wasn't that she failed to get them in and out of the mission's destination safely, she always did, but by the end of the mission they regretted ever daring to ask for her in the first place. Toni Adair wasn't just a pilot for SHIELD, with her flying skills and combat expertise of the air, she was an agent in her own right. But she was crazy in the hostile sense, always angry and always ready for a fight.

Clint felt like he was standing in front of a King Cobra, so he did what anyone would do when faced with that snake, he sat utterly still, eyes unblinking and ready for any sudden moves, paranoid with adrenaline pumping in his veins. He watched and almost flinched when Adair laughed and then flicked Meyer's perfect nose instead of Adair's usual reaction of a surprisingly powerful left hook to the nose and the resulting spray of blood. Adair called out in her smooth voice with the slight Irish tilt, "Take care of tha' eye, girlie. Call me and we'll make plans fer tha' Norman Reedus marathon 'tis weekend. Pizza's on me, ye get th' beer and th' ice-cream."

Clint blanched. Of all things that were Holy, those spawns of Satan in female bodies were actually planning for a girl's night and that too, a tame one? This was the beginning of the end of all those who annoyed that duo of psychos. They were going to plan and plot the downfall of some unfortunate souls, he just knew it. This wasn't him being paranoid at all.

He looked at Meyer with a frown. She was in her usual SHIELD issued body suit and her red-black hair up in a tight braid, but that wasn't the odd thing; the odd thing was the huge sun glasses on her face. What was she up to this time? A hangover, most definitely. She cooed at the taller female pilot, "Oooh sounds like someone needs a dose of a certain dark haired Mr. McManus! I am not sure even cold beer and ice-cream can cool down that heat in ya, lassie."

Clint almost cringed. They were girl talking and it was disturbing. He did not need to know about Adair's crush on who ever this Mr. McManus character was. He was instantly on the defense though, any second now Adair was going to jump on Meyer. Adair's short stick of tolerance was a famous thing in HQ and no one talked to her in that manner. Didn't Meyer know any better? Was she really itching for a fist to the face or was she still drunk from the previous night?

He estimated the short jump in between the two woman and how he would push Meyer away while he faced Adair. But as it was, that day was really one that was intended to shock the hell out of him. Because the next thing he knew, Adair instead of her angrier than a hellhound routine, actually just snorted and sent Meyer a teasing look as she goaded, "Oooh, like yer any better wit' yer fixation on a certain redneck Mr. Dixon, girlie. Just shut up and we can both enjoy th' many sexy personas of one Mr. Reedus."

What the fuck? More girl talk and how the hell did Meyer get to be Adair not angry? Hell, Adair didn't even shoot her a glare. He was far too flabbergasted with all of this. He stared at Meyer as she jumped a little and replied with more than a little excitement and an utterly bewitching smile, "Amen to that. I want extra cheese on my pizza by the way."

Adair rolled her green eyes and nodded along dryly, "Aye, aye, ye have a higher metabolism and all tha' shit, I remember."

Well at least her usual disposition didn't change all that much even if she was laughing with and teasing Meyer. She was still the surly mean tempered pilot everyone steered well clear of. He was far too morbidly curious to look elsewhere in time and unfortunately, Adair caught him. Her furious scowl and that thunderous glare sent his body rigid in the fraction of second. Her snarl was expected, "What're ye lookin' at, Barton? Ye got somethin' ta say ta me?"

He looked at her evenly, exactly like looking into the eyes of a snake. His voice was steady and nonchalant, "No, nothing at all, Adair."

He stood his ground as she stalked towards him, looking like a bull just about to hit him with everything. She was fuming as she growled out, "Well then, ye best put those poppin' eyeballs back in them sockets 'fore someone picks them righ' out."

With those final words and a shoulder check, she stomped out of there. He was still reeling from facing volcano Adair when the imp of a thief spoke in an awed voice, "Isn't she just glorious when she's all fired up?"

Clint immediately shot an incredulous look to the sunglass wearing thief and her gleeful face. He commented dryly, "I'd rather go with bloodcurdling rather than glorious, Meyer."

She quipped back, "Yes and that makes you sound like a sissy. Look at you, big bad SHIELD assassin scared of a beautiful woman who gets just a little fired up sometimes."

He shot her a quick glare and a disbelieving snort, "Damned right I am when the woman in question is Adair. Or did you forget how she knocks people out cold with single punches?"

She let out a happy little sigh that kind of made his stomach heat up for a second or two. She nodded her head and replied with awe, "I know. Awesome, right? One of her brothers is a MMA star, you know? Her father and uncles have some form of martial arts training; they run a gym and have been training fighters for years as a second job."

Clint felt really irritated; enough to want to put an arrow through someone's ass. There really was nothing amazing about MMA fighters. They were just overly glorified. He'd bet this year's pay that Adair's brother, the MMA superstar wouldn't last five minutes with him in the ring. He gritted out, "Careful now, Meyer. You sound star-struck."

She shook her head and with a tone that was far too mockingly pitying she informed him, "Oh Francis, dear ignorant Francis, you haven't the faintest idea. If you look at Tom Adair and his six feet four inches of muscular deliciousness just once, you'd understand. When I think about it, each and every one of the Adair men are tall, built like a Viking warrior, handsome as sin and with panty-dropping charisma."

Okay, so that part about him being irritated before enough to shoot someone in the ass, that did not even come close to the bubbling rage that he felt right then. What was she doing lusting after Adair's brothers? So was that what she was into? A couple of overly muscled Irish monkeys who performed at the ring of a bell in a little cage? A couple of pretend fighters who knew nothing about the real dangers out there in the world and the lengths one went through to protect civilians like them against? She was so shallow.

It wasn't that he was jealous. No way. It was that he was offended. How was it that Meyer would actually be attracted or actually like those guys other than guys with much more quality to them. More than just a body of bulging muscles? What about brains, sense of humor, loyalty, bravery, hell what about manners and understanding about the line of work that they did? What about any of it and more? It was insulting that she would not even know that someone like Clint existed or even give a damn about him other than being a colleague and her friend's partner. But she would drool over Adair's brothers who liked to wrestle around in a carefully controlled environment.

Besides, what the hell was she doing with Adair's family? She wasn't supposed to be all chummy with them. It made for unnecessary complications. The words kind of ripped out of his mouth, as did the accompanying glare from his eyes, "How the hell do you know any of that?"

She tilted her head to the side and chirped, "Oh. I train with them sometimes. You can't believe all the different forms of martial arts those guys know and I like groping them here and there when we spar."

The very thought of her groping some over muscled bastard sent his spine rigid with righteous anger. It just wasn't done. How could those guys appeal to her and how could she have such low standards? Maybe it wasn't her standards, maybe she just was that kind of a person; into casual sex, after all she was a thief before she became an agent for SHIELD.

He seethed on the inside. He might be a hypocrite because he was looking down on Meyer for the whole being unable to control her libido while sparring with someone attractive. He knew that. Hell, he didn't spar with Meyer because he was always sure of one fact, that he would lose his temper on her one day, get so ticked off by her smart mouth, that if he sparred with her, he'd pin her down, push all his weight on her, ravish her until he got all that frustration and tension she evoked in him worked out. Clint sneered, "You're incorrigible. I thought Agent Adair comes from a long line of pilots in her family."

Meyer nodded her head, the light glinting off her glossy red-black hair and the dark lens of her glasses, "She does. Her four uncles and her father were all various types of pilots. But all her cousins, that is, Toni's generation, none of them are pilots except her. She is the only girl born in the Adair family and currently the only pilot. She has six brothers and twenty-two cousins and none of them are pilots. She is the pride of the family."

It made Clint more than a little nervous at how much Meyer knew about Adair and her family. Exactly how close was she to the Adairs? Clint's eyebrows rose as he took in the sheer number of people in the Adair family, "Big family."

She chirped back mischievously, "Big in every essence of the word, Fran."

Again with the middle name. His jaw ticked as he took in her insinuation. God, did she have to be so crude? Clint shot her a slight glare and said sardonically, "If you're in sore need of girl talk, Meyer then I suggest you find someone else to hear you pant after Adair's brothers. I am sadly inadequate in this department to add anything to your conversations."

Clint was a little uncomfortable at the very realization about how aware he was of Meyer and her every little action and reaction. He didn't need to see the sharp spark in her golden eyes to know that she was just about to say something wicked. The slight curve of her full dark pink lips and that slight sweetness to her voice did it for him. He would never admit to the quick heat that licked his stomach at the sight of those curved lips.

She taunted playfully, "Aww, don't fret about it, Frannie. I am sure there are many more things you could be adequate at. No need to feel all that insecure."

Clint's left eye twitched as she turned around and sauntered over to the table and took a seat. She really was far too impertinent; how the hell did Natasha and Coulson put up with her? Hell, how did Hill and Fury tolerate her? He let out a deep sigh, calmed himself enough to go and sit with her and get the details of the new assignment over with.

He had just sat down and looked at her when she had taken off those huge glasses. For a second of two, his mouth was left open and the words concerning the assignment caught in his throat and lost somewhere in his mind as he took in the sight before him. Then he burst out, in sheer panic, shock, anger and worry; his words tumbling out of his mouth in an almost yell, "What the fuck happen to you? Coulson said it was a simple package retrieval job."

Clint, over the years had many injuries and wounds and he knew exactly how one got them and how much each and every one of them hurt. What was before him was a quickly swelling and darkening bruise around Meyer's startling left golden eye. Some bastard had sucker punched her. But how the fuck did that happen?

He knew that Meyer was an expert at hand to hand. It was nearly impossible to get one over her, her reflexes and instincts were that good. She was Natasha's favorite sparring partner after all. That black eye was the only injury on her. How did someone get that close and why didn't she do something about it? Hell, she could have caught him before his fist was anywhere near her face and broken his entire arm in three different places in the matter of a fraction of a second. Something big must have happened. Clint's mind instantly went into his observing, assessing and decision mode.

To his utter irritation and bafflement, she scoffed at him. She rolled her eyes at him and Clint almost winced at the sight of the swelling of her left eye. He felt an unnatural rage licking his spine at the thought of her marred skin. He silently put it all on his protective instinct. His homicidal tendencies were rational right then because someone had dared to harm one of his team mates. That was just not acceptable by Hawkeye. She said lightly, "Oh, don't get your tights in a twist, Mr. Hood. It's just a black eye."

Just a black eye? It could have been worst; hell, it was the fact that there was more to the simple assignment that was the matter of concern and she was acting so nonchalant. This was unacceptable. He leaned in closer, kept his eyes fixed on her face, glowering at her intensely, he hissed at her, "Meyer, don't give me that. You might not be as good as Tasha or me when it comes to hand-to-hand, but you're definitely close. There is no way in hell someone could have gotten one on you with your training. Who was it and what kind of mess did you just walk out from?"

She didn't even look the least bit fazed. If anything she looked downright bored and that was ticking Clint off. She drawled out, "Always so suspicious and paranoid, Barton. It was no biggie."

She was so fucking infuriating. Always so reckless and so cocky. He retorted with more than a little heat and definite disapproval at her attitude, "The fact that you're not bragging alone shows that you are keeping something. So tell me, did you get almost caught and did it turn out to be someone from the alert list? Someone stronger than you, perhaps?"

She blinked once slowly and Clint watched her closely for any little tell. He just knew she was hiding something and he needed to know what it was before it came back to bite them in the ass. All of a sudden she gasped dramatically and held a hand to her throat, looking shocked she said with a sweet voice, "It wounds my heart that you don't me at all after all this time, Barton. It really does. If you know me at all you'd know the fact that I never get almost caught, let alone actually caught. I am that good. As for you being superior at hand-to-hand combat to me is hilarious. I am actually better than you, I am at Natasha's level and she finds it difficult to get one over me even after all these years of us sparring with each other. You don't even know a thing about my hand-to-hand, you have never sparred against me."

How Clint wanted lean across the table and strange her pretty throat! There was some facts to her words but not all of it was accurate. Clint knew he was better than her at hand-to-hand. If not anything they were at the same class, he had strength and durability on his side, while she had speed and flexibility.

But the main reason he never sparred with her was because he knew that it would end in an embarrassment for him. Not because he would lose, but because he would be distracted by her or would give something away. His hands would linger, his eyes would speak and his self-control would be stretched paper thin. Anger, frustration, irritation, attraction and lust were all a dangerous combination and he held a wildly fierce fascination for Meyer and he blamed it all on his suspicious nature when it came to her. She was provocative in every sense of the word when it came to him. He did not to be provoked into pinning her perfect ten-on-ten body to the practice mat, pin her hands with one hand and grab her by her pony-tail by the other and devour her mouth and then proceed downwards. It would be very inappropriate if he did anything like that.

He said impassively, "I don't need to. You aren't my partner so I don't need to train with you."

She raised an eyebrow at him and retorted snootily, "Then all the more reason not to comment on my skills when you don't know a thing about them."

He really was exasperated by her. This time he scoffed, "Some skill! Your black eye says otherwise. Now I don't care about your tough girl routine, Meyer. All I care about is the fact that someone might be on to you and that is not how SHIELD agents work."

She looked at her nails, checking them out; Clint noticed that this time her nails were painted a dark midnight blue with little silver stars scattered about. She replied nonchalantly, "You sound like a pretentious twit when you go about the whole 'SHIELD agents this and SHIELD agents that' spiel. I know you're really old but no need to through about your age and experience in this matter, old man. You never know when your back will give out during a mission and then you'll need young things like me to drag you out of there."

He didn't care if it would cause friction between them and would sour their partnership. Those words needed to be said to her so he growled, "You are an immature brat. A spoiled child who thinks everything is fun and games right until you burn the entire house down. Then other people have to handle your mess."

She asked in return, not the least bit offended or affected by his words, "And when did you exactly clean any of my mess, Barton?"

He breathed deeply, her tantalizing scent teasing his senses and doing nothing to cool him down this time. He said predicted harshly, "Not yet, but if you keep behaving like you are then not even Natasha and Coulson will be able to clean up your mess and then all the sweet talking in the world will not help you with Fury and Hill."

How the hell did she never lose her cool when he tried everything to retaliate at her, but she always managed to light his fuse without even trying? If someone else had confronted him just like he did with her, there would have been a fist fight at the very least if not a very long and winded grudge.

She fluttered her ridiculously long and thick dark lashes at him and cooed at him, "Aww, Barton! You care and worry. How sweet! Just to relax all those worry lines on your forehead and keep you from your quickly receding hair line, I'll ease your worries. I didn't come across anybody. This is from this morning. There was a huge bastard I saw at a coffee shop yesterday and he was forcing a girl. I stepped in between and took the punch intended for her and then I broke his right arm in two places and busted his knee cap. Simple."

To say that he suddenly felt a hammer hit the back of his head at her words would be an understatement. He felt a flush rise all the way up to his ears. With his face hot, thoroughly embarrassed and the wind knocked out from his sail, all he could say was a very dignified, "Oh."

She nodded, "Oh, indeed."

Damn Meyer. He raised his chin at her and not letting her get all smug he grumbled, "Still should have kept a low profile."

She tapped her nails on the table and said patronizingly, her eyes all smug, "Oh, don't worry people in that area know me by a different alias. Besides, that girl is kind of an acquaintance. Very sweet girl and kind of an asshole magnet."

He snorted, all though he felt more than a little pride at her actions. He abhorred men who thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted with a woman just because they were bigger and stronger; and he was especially partial to knocking a guy and breaking his bones if he so much as disrespected a woman in front of him. He told her matter-of-factly, "You have a hero complex."

Suddenly there was spark in her golden eyes. She looked a little offended at his assessment. Clint was puzzled for a second before her words explained it all. She asked arrogantly, "Just because I think no man has the right to lay their hands on a woman? That's a tad bit far-fetched, Frannie. I think no one should stand around and do nothing if they witnessed such a thing happening. Besides, you're quick to change your tune. I thought I was an immature brat and a child who sets houses on fire."

He felt pride at her words. She was a good partner. She wasn't going to accept any sort of compliment for what she did, to her it was the right thing to do. It should have been a reflex for everyone according to her. So, he changed the topic just like she wanted to. He glowered at her without heat and said definitely, "You're that as well. Children rather like the whole impossible concept of being superheroes until they realize after jumping off of roofs that they actually can't fly."

Her answering grin was incredibly wicked and it heated him up in ways that was far too inappropriate. He barely managed to not sit up straighter in his seat at the slight twitch in his lower half. She purred at him, "You're like a grumpy old man who actually shows his worries by being all cranky, aren't you? Keep at it, Barton. You don't make me miss the fact that I never had a grandfather."

She was just asking for it, wasn't she? Who the hell was she calling a grandpa? His hand literally itched to spank that bottom of hers. He told her smoothly and darkly, "You really should have been put over a knee and spanked as a child every other day."

She pouted those pink lips of hers and shrugged at him. Her voice was innocent and deceptively sweet, "I hadn't been. Which is why I make up for it now. Spanking couldn't have possibly been as much fun for me as a child as it is for me now."

Oh God. She did not just say that. Clint had to use every last bit of his self-control to keep his face as still as it was. He couldn't crack, especially not when she was watching so closely. But the visions that came to mind when she said that, they were overwhelming.

All he could see was her bent over the very table they were sitting at, her perfect ass would stick out at him, while his palm would grow hot at every delicious sting he would deliver to those soft pale globes. He would caress away each slap and he knew she would be gasping, panting and moaning. He would enjoy making her beg for him.

He cleared his throat, closed his eyes for a second to clear away those visions and he told her, he was annoyed at how low and husky his voice had gotten, "We need to talk about the new assignment."

Her eyes were still on him, golden and contained a wicked gleam to them, but her response was a lazy nonchalant drawl, "Sure, Barton. Let's talk."


	9. A Siren Emerges

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Eight  
**

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On the day of the job, Clint was more than a little ticked off. He hated bow-ties; loathed them actually even though he could carry a tux and that infernal piece of cloth knot around his throat very smoothly. It was just that, a complicated noose around his throat. He knew he looked pretty slick in his black tux, looking good and fitting in was a part of the job. For the moment he was waiting on Meyer in living room of a very expensive hotel suite. Their targets were at a gala being hosted at a nearby building. Meyer's target was a memory disc located at the private office of the man hosting the gala in his own building. Clint's target was the man's partner.

Meyer would sneak up to the office and get the disk, replace it with a fake and come back without raising any flags whatsoever. Exactly fifteen minutes later, Clint's target would go to the office to check on the disk. Clint would take him out on the way to the office and stash him on the fifth floor. The plan was simple and effective. Also, Meyer was playing the part of the wife of a prominent oil-tycoon, a lonely, rich and attractive socialite. Clint was going to play the part of a playboy investment banker.

He was lost within that night's plan, everything swirling in his head were details and the calm focus that he needed for the jobs settled over his head. The exit plan was all left to Meyer. It was her specialty after all and that was why she was the lead agent of the job. Despite them being partners for the job.

It was her smooth melodious voice washing over his ears that broke him out of his focus, "Hmm…not bad, Frannie. Not bad at all."

Finally. She was done. He turned around to shoot a retort at her when his breath literally got caught in his throat and he kind of forgot everything. She was a sight to behold. Under the room's spot lights, she looked like a dark siren sweeping up from a mass of dark water.

To be honest that dress had to be one of the most conservative dresses he had seen on her. It was all dark lace and some kind of soft swirling material. The neckline showed nothing, it was a simple round shape showing her beautiful pale throat, collar bones and that dip into curvaceous chest. It was all pale soft skin and dark lace covering softly heaving skin and treasures below. Very provocative, very darkly innocent and very hard on the imagination running rampant of the males nearby.

The dress was sleeveless and it fit her like a glove all over, showing her tiny waist and those curved out wide hips and then those long legs and then falling around her to the floor like water pouring down. He watched her with his pulse racing as she stalked towards him. Fuck, he knew his body must be showing signs of arousal and he hated that. Her perfect glossy red black hair was swept up in a complicated hairdo, leaving only two long curls that were hiding behind her ears and came down to innocently swirl and tickle the sides of her neck. Clint wanted to tug on them and tip her head to the side to get at the skin they were caressing. He felt jealous of them.

Her skin was perfect for hickeys, a juvenile part of him whispered sinfully in his head. There was some kind of a diamond hairpiece in her head and huge diamond earrings in her ears. She must have stolen them, a weak but fighting part of him whispered, but he still couldn't break off from the spell she was casting.

Those mysterious golden-hazel eyes that were show-stoppers lined in dark eyeliner and the hint of a dark color. His eyes were caught on her lips next and suddenly he felt hungry; hungry for those lips. They were bare of color. Her natural dark pink lips looked as full and luscious as ever and begged for his mouth to take them. He could almost feel their softness against his lips, how he could crush them, bruise them, lick at them, nibble on them, taste them and what he wanted the most was to know what sounds those perfect lips of hers could make.

Her overwhelming scent was not helping anything. He wanted to bury his head in her neck and drown in that very scent. Some women just carried scents very well, making that scent their most sexually appealing trait. Meyer was one of those women, she had too many sexually appealing traits and it was fucking unfair that she even got the scent that made him hard in less than a second.

The more she moved towards him, the more he noticed how her dress wasn't black, but a blue so dark that it looked black. It made her skin glow. She really personified a siren, dark, beautiful, seductive and dangerous just about to drag a sailor down to the depths of the sea and drown him. She was a very beautiful and attractive woman and it was quickly becoming a very dangerous thing for him.

It was difficult to get his mind to start working and he'd be damned if he let Meyer actually see how she affected him. He was dreading every step she took towards him, because each step made his arousal more prominent. Desire burned beneath his skin like wildfire.

Oddly enough, she helped him. Not intentionally of course, but she helped him. He sharply noticed her eyes moving all over him, taking everything and he could see it in her dark hazel eyes as clear as day, she liked what she saw. He felt a sharp exhilaration taking hold of him at the prospect of Meyer being attracted to him. It was a very pleasing thought. Despite that there was also an unavoidable truth; he held a certain fascination towards Meyer. In the end, she might be checking him out then but she was not the least bit interested in him whatsoever. She had gotten under his skin, but he hadn't so much as scratched the surface with her.

That bored nonchalance slipped from her eyes and to Clint it felt like her darkened eyes burned along his skin, they lingered on his shoulders, slowly made their way down his torso and it spiked his arousal when they swiftly roved over his lower abdomen and went still lower. She definitely liked what she saw and there was a wicked smirk that teased along her lips. Unlike him though she didn't hide her attraction to him. She held his eyes boldly and unabashedly; maybe that was why her eyes went back to their usual cool nonchalance. It stung him a little, but he got the message. He looked good that night and she approved. It was her way of complimenting him and acknowledging him and that was that. This whole exchange left him irate, frustrated, a little angry and very aroused.

He managed to bit back dryly, "Glad I can live up to your expectations."

She was so close to him, her scent was drowning him. Vanilla and lavender, heady, intoxicating, memorable and all Meyer. She retorted cheekily, "You're lucky you did. Otherwise I would have had to ditch you."

Somehow her backhanded compliment was stroking his ego and he felt a little lighter. His lips wanted to smile, but he didn't. He deadpanned, "You couldn't have."

She looked at him with a challenging gaze and as always that look riled Clint up in the most intense and hot ways, "You're saying I can't escape the all-seeing gaze of the Hawkeye?"

He rolled his eyes, "I didn't have to say it; you did."

She shocked him; a soft fingertip ran delicately down his right cheek as she cooed, "How adorable, you're actually trying to sound all arrogant over your supposedly infallible skills."

Her touch was making his mind distracted and he didn't like it one bit. He deadpanned once more, acting as nonchalant as she always did, "They are infallible."

She was too close, just inches away from his face, almost no space between them. Her eyes locked on his, she said to him matter-of-factly, "Of course they are, except when it comes to me. I have disappeared from your line of sight many a times, haven't I?"

A compliment and a taunt, typical Meyer. He told her truthfully, not backing down from the challenge or from her sudden invasion of his personal space, "You weren't my target then, I wasn't keeping an eye on you."

She gave him a look so intense that it unnerved and pinned him to the ground, at her mercy. She said softly, and once again Clint thought she looked like a siren just about to drag him down to the depths of the sea, "So you say, but we both know that your eyes always look for me."

No. She couldn't mean that. Did she? Did she know? Fucking hell. This was a disaster of epic proportions. It would ruin everything. He stared into her eyes, but couldn't quiet muster up the horror of the situation. All he could feel and think about was closing the distance between their lips and just kiss her with all he had. Just like he had wanted to for such a long time, it was time to put his frustrations and all the hell she roused in him to rest.

She wanted it as well, she had to, why else would she bring up his attraction to her and talk like she did, in that voice, watch him with those eyes, be so close to him that he could almost taste her? She cornered him. Fight or flee.

He thought about it and he was so close to the edge. He wanted to say damn it all to hell and just drag her to him. Temptation, that was what she was to him. But he resisted. He had to. Because he remembered that within the next ten minutes, they were on for a job. She was his partner and they couldn't muck this up. If anything had to happen, if it was meant to happen, he could do it after some cool-minded thinking and later when there wasn't a job requiring their partnership looming over them.

His mind sputtered and thought of all sorts of excuses to set her aside. Not to reject her, just delay her. He also wanted to hear from her lips what she wanted. Was it a trick or did she feel the same? Such tension and attraction couldn't possibly be entirely one-sided even with her continued nonchalance and ignorance of him. She lived to rile him up, after all.

His throat felt dry and his voice was raspy. His eyes searched hers wildly as he told her lowly, "No. That's not it at all. Fraternizing between fellow agents is frowned upon in SHIELD. You know that as well as I."

She reared her head back and suddenly, that delicious tension between them evaporated. Clint felt the loss sorely and he knew that he had pushed her away. He regretted that immediately, but his sense of duty told him that it was the absolute right thing to do. That was what was swimming in his head in the few seconds that Meyer took pause to stare at him wildly. Then she snorted and Clint knew something was amiss.

Meyer pinned him with her stare as she gave him a piece of her mind and each word that passed her lips fanned fire under Clint's skin and gave him hope, "First of all, fraternizing between agents is merely frowned upon, not prohibited. Like me bringing little souvenirs for Agent Hill from my various mission sites is frowned upon by certain people, but I still do it and get away with it. As long as I do justice to my missions, I am golden. Therefore, relationships between people in SHIELD isn't forbidden, one simply needs to have the guts to look at one's superior in the eye and say, what do ya have ta say about my personal affairs. Also one has to make sure that his or her mission reports are pristine."

Was she serious? Did she really think this through? Was it all worth it to her? Would she really brave out SHIELD and all its protocols and of course Fury just to sate whatever that it was between them? What was he thinking? Of course she would, she was Meyer after all. Reckless, without thought, always finding a way to get what she wanted Meyer. He felt lust stirring in him at her words. She was encouraging him to man up and get what he wanted, in this case it being her.

He leaned in closer to her, feeling he had to make her understand, that things had to stop right there. Maybe later they could talk about it. He opened his mouth to talk but was interrupted by her rolling eyes and continued rant, "I…"

Her arms were crosses underneath her impressive bust, his eyes lingered there unintentionally. The pale skin of her throat and that dip of her collar bones teased him. She countered, disrupting his line of sight, "Secondly, I never meant you kept your eyes on me constantly out of the sheer attraction you hold for me, Frannie. I meant out of suspicions. After all you have said time and time again how suspicious a petty thief like me can be."

That broke whatever misunderstanding Clint had. She didn't feel anything for him. No desire and no fascination. What she had for him was at best an admiring glance one gave to a particularly attractive stranger walking down the street. He felt powerful rejection building in him and his ego was more than bruised. He hated himself for feeling that way. Meyer couldn't be blamed either. This was all his problem and she never encouraged him or made any move towards him. It was his libido and he had to control to it, what did Meyer have to do with any of it, he berated himself.

She was making a point and riling him up like she always did, it wasn't her fault that he found their arguments hot. Or how being suspicious of her and tearing into her during their 'talks' had somehow become a source of building lust for him. All of it was his fucked problem, his issue, his inability to comprehend what Meyer was to him exactly and what boundaries to maintain when it came to her, his fellow agent. After all, he didn't treat Natasha in this way.

Still the usual feelings stemming from a rejection was there, humiliation, anger, frustration, disappointment, everything was there. Clint frowned at the floor as he remembered Meyer's words. He never thought that he had been that hostile with her. He never knew how much he had alienated her by calling her a dubious thief all the time.

He had his reasons for it and yes, it had been his duty to see to her loyalty. She was a relatively younger agent than himself, not been long with SHIELD as he had, became a senior agent within a year or two and had a very dubious past as a thief and still was secretive about it. But had he really isolated her that much by dragging in her previous criminal career? He was taunting her just as she taunted him, but did he always mean to degrade her?

Wasn't she so damned proud of her abilities as a master thief? So did his words really make it sound like he thought her below him, or not a SHIELD agent and one of them? Because honestly, it might have started off in the beginning as a clear sign of his disapproval, disliking and distrust in her, but now he knew that she was a competent agent, one of the best in her fields and he trusted her to have his back. Didn't she know that?

Or didn't he ever make it clear to her? His stomach churned and he felt more than a little guilt, because what he had been doing wasn't right. She had to know that he hadn't ever meant any of it as an insult; this was just how their banter went. He was Francis and all sorts of bird and archer related names to her and she was a thief to him.

He frowned and told her firmly, "No. You're a competent agent, Meyer."

There was silence between them for more than a few seconds. Tension brewed between them and Clint could see so many unnamed emotions swim in her hazel eyes. He silently hoped that she understood exactly what he had been trying to say without outright saying it. She blinked once, her long dark lashes brushing her soft cheeks. A very small sigh escaped his lips even though he didn't mean to.

Suddenly, she gasped dramatically and Clint could already feel a headache coming. She just had to go and spoil the moment. She pressed a hand to her impressive chest and purred, "My god, Barton. Are you going soft on me or was that a compliment? I swear that was a genuine, one hundred percent real compliment and that too coming from your mouth regarding me. Wow. I think my heart is about to burst out of excitement and glee. Oh my, I think there is even a little blush on my cheeks."

He gritted his teeth. She was so damned annoying. He scowled at her, "Shut up."

She gave him that all too familiar impish grin and haggled, "I will if you give me another compliment, Barton."

Clint snorted dismissively, "I don't want your head to get any bigger than it already is."

She pressed a fingertip to his chest, again her touch even over layers of clothing did things to him that he did not approve of at all; she stated persistently, "I can and will chatter on and on and on until your ears bleed and you have an epic migraine if you don't give me a real compliment within the next ten seconds, Frannie."

Clint would never admit it in a million years, but that impish persistent streak in her was in some very rare times a little attractive. But he would never admit it. He stared into her eyes, the promise of some silence and no more taunting from her side was tempting, very tempting. He grumbled, "Fine…You look beautiful."

There was a barely noticeable flush to her cheeks, her eyes widened just a little and that slow growing smile on her lips promised of a woman very much charmed and flattered. She looked like every other woman on the planet who reveled in the compliments given by an attractive man and Clint liked that he had made her look like that. That was probably the first time he had invoked any kind of meaningful feeling in her.

She retorted smoothly, her voice sweet, yet Clint knew instantly that she was teasing him once more; her smirk told him so, "I think my heart just fluttered a little. Do you really mean it, Barton?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned, "I think I really need to invest in some ear plugs."

She smiled wide and chirped, "Won't help at all. I'll just pick your pockets for them every time."

Clint bit out, "Damn it."

She chuckled and elbowed him, "Oh, cheer up, Robin Hood. We look delicious in every sense of the word tonight, that's more than enough reason to strut, baby."

He shook his head, typical Meyer. He gestured with a hand and offered mockingly, "You walk, I'll follow."

She looked at him, completely shocked and it baffled Clint for a second; which of course gave her the opportunity to pinch his check and accuse, "You, naughty boy. You just wanna see if the back is as gloriously sexy as the front."

Clint felt his cheeks warming up and not from the slight pinch she delivered to one of them. How the hell did she come up with that and he did not mean it like that. Although now that she had, it was all he could think about. If the front of the dress was this sinful to look at, he couldn't wait to see what the dress did for her perfect ass. He really did snarl at her, "Shut up."

It had no effect on her whatsoever. She laughed at him, pointing a finger at him she goaded, "Oh no way, Frannie. You so have your eyes on me."

He demanded, "I thought we had a deal. One compliment in exchange for some quiet."

She looked like the Cheshire fucking Cat as she grinned and countered, "No, I said I would shut up in exchange for one compliment. I didn't specify for how long and neither did you. I was all shut up for exactly three seconds. I counted."

Damn it. She found a loop hole. He didn't even know there was one. Meyer was so exhausting. He said tiredly, "I miss Natasha."

She nodded and without getting the point that he insulted her, she agreed, "I know, I do too. She is with Stark right now."

Why was she telling him where his partner was? He knew. He replied, "I know."

Her eyes were looking at a flower vase in front of them, but her mind was somewhere else as she murmured, "I met him once."

Suddenly, it was as if all hell broke loose in Clint's head. He blanched at the admission from the siren's lips and his mind went into overload. All possible threats and situations that could appear and occur from those four words alone plagued his mind. He was reeling with the methods of damage control he would have to do.

God the one thing Fury had warned them against had happened already. Their one possible problem had been confirmed. Meyer had already made contact with Stark. It was just a matter of time before those two brought hell down on them. Maybe they were already in the process of it. Who knew? Oh fuck, Natasha would be caught in the middle of it all, completely unaware and unprepared.

Clint deemed it completely undignified that he felt a sharp jolt of jealousy coursing through him at the thought of Stark and Meyer together and with good reason because the only interaction Anthony Stark could have with a woman would be sexual and especially when the woman in question was as physically attractive as Meyer was. He swallowed down the jealousy and forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. He thought of how to deal with this. When Fury found out about this little tidbit, there would be hell to pay on Meyer's behalf.

He stalked towards her, his blue eyes ablaze and completely trained on Meyer's bored face. He fumed at her, You what? When? You were asked to stay the hell away from him. We all were, except Coulson and Natasha.

She didn't look the least bit phased and it grated on Clint's last nerve. She drawled slowly and without a care, "I know. This way before this mission. Like a year and a half ago."

His mind reeled with the information and anger burning a little in his stomach, but he kept his cool. He cursed at the floor, "Shit. Is this going to blow Tasha's cover or make any complications with him and SHIELD?"

A part of Clint processed the next flow of information from her lips, while the other part of him wondered how the hell did she manage to be that god-damned nonchalant about the major crisis they were about to face, "Nope. I was at a party, retrieving something and he was there too. Very charming, even with an insane amount of alcohol in his system. He knew me as Vivienne Deveraux and as a red head with a very thick French accent."

The information hit him slowly and realization sunk in. There was no crisis even though there was more to the situation. All he could manage was a blank, "Oh."

Clint couldn't quite decide if Meyer did know of his secret attraction to her and intentionally taunted him or did she just happen to make lewd and inappropriate comments around him to set the very short fuse of his on fire. Right then it seemed like she didn't have a care about the effect her words had on Clint, be it the jealousy of a potential lover or the wrath of a fellow agent for a blunder she was admitting to.

Her eyes were trained on a nearby painting as she fondly recalled, her voice was smooth and sweetly seductive and it warmed something in the pit of Clint's stomach as well as made his lower abdomen twitch, "Excellent kisser though. I never liked facial hair on men before him. He promised me a night I'd never forget."

Of course, those words had the worst sort of effect on him. Clint had never quite had a red film covering his eyes that swiftly. He felt an uncontrollable rage. His fists clenched tightly and his posture went on attack mode far too quickly. A monster clawed on his inside and he felt like breaking something apart. Preferably Tony Stark's bearded fucking face. Clint barely held himself from grabbing Meyer by her hair and showing her what excellent kissing actually was.

His voice was deceptively calm, almost a whisper as he asked her grimly, "You slept with Stark?"

His eyes, his infamous hawk eyes watched her unblinkingly, waiting for even the slightest indication of a hesitation or a lie. Her answer would decide a lot of things. He didn't know what the outcome would be, but he knew that it would not be good if she did sleep with Tony fucking Stark.

She looked back at him, again unperturbed and completely unaware of the dam that was just about to burst in her face. She blinked once slowly and answered him matter-of-factly, "No. He asked me to, I declined. I think that was what made him look for me everywhere at the party. Unfortunately for him, I was busy scaling up the building's elevator shaft and breaking into the vault for a hard drive."

Relief flooded Clint's body, but there was a huge amount of residual frustration and agitation left in him at this entire thing. The green-eyed beast awoken in Clint hadn't quite retreated; she had kissed tony fucking Stark. He sneered at her, "Why didn't you mention any of this before? That you were one of Stark's floozies at one point?"

She looked him right in the eye and retorted coolly, his words rolling off of her like water, "That's because I wasn't. I let him make out with me because he was easily pushing me towards the direction I wanted to go towards without any suspicions at all. I never slept with him, so I didn't get promoted to the title of being his floozy. Besides, Fury, Tasha and Coulson all know about that time."

The more she explained the situation, the vividly Clint saw everything in his mind and he loathed it. He hated himself for caring and not being indifferent to this entire situation. A part of him wanted to punish her for kissing Stark. He didn't back down and still kept at it, "What if Stark recognizes you?"

She gave him a look as if he was acting like a child and she was just humoring him. That did not help with his black mood at all. She shrugged, "I suppose then he will want to make that promise come true."

He ordered her, his tone dominant and refused anything but absolute obedience, "You cannot do that."

She smirked at him wickedly; her golden eyes darkened with defiance, her chin thrust out in challenge, she told him point blank, "No, Frannie. I can do that. It is the question whether I will or will not."

He leaned into her, his face inches away from hers, his breath hitting her face as he promised her darkly, "Fury will have your head if you so much as wink at Stark."

He didn't even mention what he'd do to both Stark and her, if something happened. She looked tickled as she mock-pouted, "Ah, yes. My dear, darling Nicky. He really is a possessive one, isn't he? I suppose for the sake of my Nicky's tender heart, I should refrain from taking up on Stark and his promising offer."

Clint hissed, "Everything will still go to hell when he recognizes you."

She shook her head and chirped, "Nope. He won't. Unless I put on my red wig and speak in my French accent. Besides, the Vivienne Deveraux he knew was a French upcoming swimsuit designer."

So her cover was a good and solid one. It calmed him somewhat. The problems concerning Natasha's cover being blown and the exposure of her as a SHIELD agent was covered. But anger still itched at his skin; he could still picture Tony stark's mouth ravishing Meyer's. He lifted an eyebrow sardonically, "And SHIELD's Estella Meyer has little to no accent, let alone a French one, is a retrieval specialist and nowhere near a French swimsuit designer."

She looked at him for a few seconds, all silent and wondering. It unnerved Clint. In fact it unnerved him so much that his anger slipped away and he didn't even notice that. She told him matter-of-factly, "You know, that is the first time you have called me by my proper designation as opposed to what you usually call me."

He felt very uncomfortable. He fidgeted a little and grumbled, making his point on this matter very clear, "Yeah well, I can call you whatever I feel like. You're my fellow agent and we're both of SHIELD's. But to every other outsider, you will get the respect of the agent that you are and nothing less. To everyone else you are SHIELD's retrieval specialist."

She sniffed loudly. Clint watched with his stomach turning a little as Meyer fluttered her lashes at him wildly and cooed a little fanatically, "Awww, Barton. That's the sweetest thing you have ever said to me. I think I could hug you right now."

His spine straightened and his arms almost opened up to her, but he still deadpanned, "Please, don't."

Her lower lip jutted out as she answered in a huff, "Fine. I won't. But since I am so pleased with you, I will give you a little something."

He was obviously curious and more than a little wary of her. But secretly, he was anticipating things which were entirely different. He rolled his eyes and pretended to humor her, "Yeah? What is that?"

She grinned, "A nibble."

Fuck, that word alone brought the most sensual of scenes to the fore front of his mind. The fantasies he had about nibbling at different parts of her body. Was she offering or baiting? His eyes fixated on the skin of her pale throat and his voice had gone husky, "A nibble of what?"

She answered promptly, "I am actually French born."

That wasn't what he expected and he almost didn't catch it. He sputtered, "What?"

She snapped her fingers loudly and beckoned him as she stalked away from him and towards the door, "Onwards we go, Frannie. We have a party to crash. I have something to steal and you have someone to kill."

He shook his head, "It's disturbing how it rhymed."

He felt the slightest of excitement and anticipation course through him with what he got from Meyer. A fact about her. She was born in France. Finally he knew something about her, even if he hadn't gotten access to her files yet. But what truly stopped him dead in his tracks and made him groan out loud was something else entirely.

She was right, he was a naughty boy; the back of the dress was far more salacious than the front. There was no upper back of the dress at all; her pale, soft and downright sinful back was bare from the nape of her neck till the delicious curve of the small of her back. Then there was the perfectly shaped ass jutting out in that tight dark fabric, begging to be groped by the handfuls; to be specific his handfuls.

He stood there dumbfounded, his mouth dry and his pants getting tighter by the second. She taunted him as he watched the naughty little sway of those hips, "Now who's chattering away, Francis?"


	10. Dragged Into The Depths By A Siren

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...**

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**The Magpie**

**Chapter Nine  
**

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"Come on, Barton. This way," came the hurried and urgent whisper from his partner. She was far too busy dragging him along by his wrist and he felt utterly foolish. He could very well follow her without being dragged around like a rag doll, but according to her he was bulky, didn't even know the meaning of the word stealth and had no concept as to blending into the shadows.

Clint felt heavily insulted; he was a god-damned marksman of SHIELD. But he kept his mouth shut and let himself be dragged by the master thief. It was far better than being pulled into walls, pushed into dark corners, slapped on the arm to be quiet, pinched to be faster and scowled at because he was far too heavily built.

Both his and her individual tasks were done. They had entered the party separately, lingered and mingled. Meyer went first and retrieved what she was supposed to and then Clint went on to take care of his target. Then Clint was stuck on a floor and Meyer had come to his rescue. They had been waiting till a suitable time to leave the party.

They could have sneaked out, but the security outside would be onto them immediately. Especially since they were searching for the man Clint took out. They thought him missing, but Clint and Meyer knew better. According to the plan they needed a proper excuse to leave without rousing suspicions and Meyer apparently had a brilliant idea. So there they were in a seemingly deserted corridor moving about while the security of the place were combing through the floors with fine toothed comb.

Clint whispered, "Where are we going? We need an escape route."

She shot him a quick sharp look as she continued to drag him along. Her heels were not even clicking on the floor and that amazed Clint considering the fact that he had seen those sexy and insanely high heels. She really was very stealthy. Her voice was a very smooth hiss, "No, we need to escape suspicions. We only need to get ourselves cleared from their list of possible suspects."

She was confusing and this whole thing was her game now. She was the master player and he had to play the part of the rookie. Even though he could escape from there with her in his own way, but she was the lead agent and it was her way or the highway, so to speak. He trusted her completely with this, her reputation was made of jobs like these. She had a plan for sure, the problem was that she was one of those overly arrogant people who thought they were smarter than everybody else especially when it came to their own field of expertise. She knew what she was doing and thought him stupid enough to not being able to even comprehend the complexity of her mind and plan.

That slight frown between her brows and the loud exasperation from her eyes made him grin like a schoolboy pulling on the pigtails of the girl he liked. He was enjoying it immensely and just to agitate her a little, he asked softly, "What do you mean?"

She grumbled, her soft hand tightening around his wrist, "Really, Barton. Quit thinking. Just follow my instructions to the last dot and without questions. This is my specialty after all. Breaking in and getting out without getting caught, remember?"

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it, he swore he felt her roll her eyes. He smirked as he eyed the great view of her back in the dark corridors as she continued to drag him along. That perfect curve of her spine and all the pale soft skin before him, made him lick his lip like a hungry cat before a canary. He spoke lowly and deeply, "Fine. So what do we do?"

She shushed him and kept going down the corridor and to Clint's further bewilderment, towards the direction the guards were coming from. She hadn't even looked at any of the numerous doors they had passed, but this time she braked suddenly and stopped in front of a door abruptly, making him bump into her back hard. His only free hand grabbed her around the stomach to keep from both of them falling. Before he even had the chance to enjoy the wonderfully curvaceous woman in his arms, she opened the door and shoved him in with a whispered order, "This way."

It was a dark room until Meyer stepped in as well and flipped the switch. She hastily closed the door making sure close it with a loud click. Why the hell was she making noise now when he could hear men coming their way from a distance? He watched with frantic eyes, his body tense and ready for her next order. They couldn't possibly be cornered.

He asked promptly, "Now what?"

The look Meyer gave him was wicked and gravely serious at the same time. Clint couldn't decide why but his breathing picked up just a little and his heart drummed loudly in his ears. He flushed hot as Meyer stalked towards him. Her voice was a firm order and like the good soldier he was his body jumped at that tone, "The oldest trick in the book. Take off your jacket and undo your belt."

His hands moved automatically. His jacket dropped on the floor and the loud clink of his belt quickly followed, his eyes never wavered from her though and it was her actions that froze him to the floor. She backed up against a wall, raised her hands to the up-do of her hair and plunger her hands in it, messing it up. Then her hands slid down and she swiftly pulled down the straps of her dress till the top half of her perfect pale breasts were thrust out of her dress.

Clint watched with a very dry throat as her hands slid down her stomach and to her thighs and then she grabbed handfuls of her dress and yanked it all up till a pair of perfect pale legs in dangerously sexy high heels were exposed till the knees. His voice came out in a far too dry voice, "Wh-what? What the hell are you doing?"

She scoffed at him impatiently, "What does it look like, Barton?"

Answering that question was facing a loaded gun. He blanched even though his body spoke volumes and fought against his strict control. His mind whispered filthy wishes and dark desires, all of it urging him to ravish her. She was begging for it. This time he reacted in a way that was one of Meyer's signature reactions. His face remained impassive as he blinked and blinked again at her.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, she snapped at him, "Just shut up, get over here and play along. They are almost here."

His feet felt like they were incased in concrete. Slowly he walked over to her, a little unsure and more apprehensive about what she wanted him to do. She got impatient real quick. A low whisper in his head told him to take note of how impatient she was and to imagine how she would react in bed. She would order him about, demand her pleasure impatiently and he should then go excruciatingly slow, restricting her movement and teasing her till she was delirious with her arousal, lost that demanding bossiness from her voice and begged for him.

She grabbed him by the wrist once more and pulled with a surprising amount of strength. He barely managed to not hit her with his body. His palms slapped flat on the wall beside her waist, his chest brushed her soft breasts and his face came a hair's width away from hers.

She looked up into his eyes and whispered, seductively and tauntingly, "Come on, Barton. Haven't you ever done this before? Pin me to the wall like you mean it. Lift me up and push yourself into me."

Clint wasn't even aware how hard his face had gotten and how feral he looked in his arousal and that fire that ran in his blood because of this tempest of a woman trapped in between him and a wall. Clint took in her reactions with great relish though. He seared it in his memory how flushed her pale skin had gotten, all the way from those heaving curves of her breasts to her throat and over her cheeks, how her luscious lips had dropped open and how she slowly wet them with a flick of her tongue and how her breathing had quickened and how dark her gold-hazel eyes had gotten. He didn't need eidetic memory to remember Meyer like this. This would be near impossible to forget.

He was breathing hard as well, she was inhaling his breath and he was inhaling hers; that was how close those two were. He pressed his hard body, all muscle and unforgiving into her soft pliant body. She was pinned to the wall just like she had asked for. A groan slipped out of his tightly pressed lips at the feel of her crushed breasts against his chest; his eyes lewdly looked at the pale flesh spilling out of her neckline and looked as if they were being offered to Clint's hungry greedy mouth. They were begging to be tasted and marked.

His eyes flicked back to her eyes dangerously and then his hands swiftly grabbed her tightly by her hips and dragged her up a foot or two above the floor. After she was lifted by him, pinned by his arms, his breathing was not breathing anymore, it was flat out panting and his body was coiled tightly like a spring. Ready for her next command like an obedient but very angry and dangerous soldier. He was going to devour her if she wasn't being careful.

Her hands, he didn't even notice their position until they came to softly rest on his broad shoulders. At her touch, he felt some of his tension slip away, but his skin till burned for her. His lips ached to press against hers. He waited and his head swam in the delicious scent of vanilla and lavender.

His body was cradled perfectly and snugly in between her open legs. He knew he'd be a goner if she wrapped those legs around his hips and took him further into her. One of her hands, softly grabbed the back of his neck, looked down into his eyes from her higher dangling position and whispered, "Play along. I am a desperate housewife and you're my lover. We're having a scandalous tryst at a party and we will be caught in a few minutes by those security guys. Get it?"

His only answer was a slow blink of his eyes and the tightening of the hands clutching her hips. She nodded once, "Now, plant your lips at my neck and push one hand right up my dress."

She was pushing him too far. He growled lowly and by the ever so slight shiver that went through Meyer he smugly noted that she felt his growl rather then heard it, "What?"

She snapped, her eyes ablaze and temper rising, "Quit repeating yourself."

His blue eyes burned with desire and an urge to shut her smart mouth up. One of his hand that had been gripping her hip tightly, slipped down, caressing the curve of her hip slowly, firmly and all the way down her thigh till her knee. With a quick grasp of the dark material of her skirt, he yanked it up swiftly and expertly, leaving her leg bare, pale and inviting his touch.

His knew his finger tips were rough and calloused from all the years of him handling his bow strings and bolts. It gave him a very intense thrill to see her shudder as he ran those rough finger tips in a slow caress over the soft skin of her pale thighs. As Clint's finger's slid higher up her bared thigh, she arched up against him in the most sensual way, her mouth let out the most inaudible of little gasps.

Clint smirked darkly, ever the temptress, his Magpie. He wanted to do more, could do more but that wasn't how this game was being played. There were thundering footsteps coming their way down the corridor and they were going to not get caught, if all went along Meyer's plan. So, like a good soldier he would follow his lead agent's orders and for now, even though Meyer's sweet body was asking for more and he was ready to give it all to her, Meyer hadn't given any further instructions. He just did as he was told and nothing more. But he'd be damned if Meyer wasn't feeling at least a large fraction of the frustration he was suffering from at the feel of her body trapped against him. If he was going to drown, he was going to take her with him, siren or not, he thought wryly.

The danger of being caught, the adrenaline pumping in their veins and the friction between them that existed from the moment Clint had first laid eyes on her, all of it was making the tension between them more potent and a spell so strong that Clint wouldn't be able to break it later on, he knew it. He breathed in her delicious scent and waited with a predator's patience for her next instruction when his eyes caught something dark on the floor by his foot.

His eyes went wide, his throat dried up and he felt stunned. His eyes went back and forth between what was on the floor and Meyer's impatient face. He managed to utter out, his voice caught a little, "Ii-is that your tho…"

On the floor by his foot was a tiny scrap of dark lace that matched the color of Meyer's dress and could only be a thong. When the hell had she taken them off and why hadn't he noticed it before? But his line of thinking was cut short abruptly and his stunned mind cruelly shaken into focus by the pair of hands that had suddenly clutched onto his shirt's collar and jerked him to a flushed face with intense eyes.

She snapped at him, full of fire and in a tone that demanded absolute obedience, "Yes, that's my thong on the floor. Now, be my illicit lover. When they barge into this room you had better be giving me a huge hickey on the neck and your hand in between my thighs better look like your giving me a hell of an orgasm. Everything else, just act it out. Come on, Francis, don't be such a pussy. You can't be that awkward a lover."


End file.
